


Stamped Into Memory

by WroughtBetwixt



Series: A Gamble At Terrible Odds [3]
Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: ASPD, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Apologies, Arguing, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Campbell has mild ASPD, Canonical Character Death, Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Dubcon Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family Issues, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Parallel Universes, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Gestures, Sex, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse, Surprise Kissing, Survival, Trapped, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and is actively trying to not be awful, implied animal death, the dog lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: One night is all it takes to throw Campbell's carefully maintained control into chaos. Caught in a downward spiral and once again public enemy #1, he struggles to keep those around him safe-- from a killer on the loose, and from himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is part three of a series. Reading the first two parts is more-or-less essential.
> 
> This is a canon divergent storyline for Campbell, using (in my experience) a realistic take on conduct disorder and ASPD instead of Hollywood "psychopath" stereotypes. While people with conduct disorder can be violent and abusive, the diagnosis exists on a spectrum, and neither ASPD nor "psychopathy" should be diagnosed before the age of 18; this is one thing that rubbed me the wrong way on The Society. Campbell's power will be more in his ability to manipulate-- not "being crazy". Hopefully I can succeed in presenting a more understandable and less sensationalized vision of his behavior. Please note that while I present his relationships as unhealthy and his behavior as questionable, I don't intend to make him a violent abuser, to bring his character more in line with my experiences of how an emotionally neglected teen with moderately reduced empathy would behave, provided they were trying to be better (and seeking outside help).
> 
> AO3 updates will be on Sunday, unless otherwise noted! Head on over to [my tumblr](https://wroughtbetwixtfanfic.tumblr.com/) to get story statuses, notices of delay, and to learn more about my writing. :) Thank you for reading, and leaving kudos/comments. They matter so much to me. <3

When a gun goes off, there are only two moments-- before, and after.  
  
Shootings were something Campbell, and others his age, had grown up with. It was an ever-present specter, where you held your breath every day you went to school and didn't let it out until you were home again. Slammed doors, dropped books, even the pop of a can of soda, caused people to flinch. But they all knew what a gunshot sounded like. They had seen the videos. They had been through the drills. They knew, if something like that ever happened in West Ham, nothing would be the same again.  
  
He knew, at 12:35, that something had changed. He knew that before he even turned the corner. Someone had a gun, and they had used it. The barking had stopped. The street was silent, empty, as Campbell turned the corner. Empty, except for Cassandra laying on the ground.  
  
Campbell rushed over, kneeling beside her. Was she breathing? He couldn't tell, but there was blood pooling around her, and her eyes weren't opening. "Cassandra, come on," he pleaded, searching for her pulse. "Don't you fucking dare, Cassie, don't you dare."  
  
Nothing. She was dead.  
  
His throat squeezed shut. Campbell fumbled with his phone, but the blood on his hands made it impossible to grip properly. Gordie, or Allie. He had to call someone, anyone. But then he stopped, chaotic impulse shifting into cold logic. Campbell was the only one in town who had openly used a gun. His friendship with Cassandra was, aside from a few people, not widely known. Worse, Campbell had held Cassandra at gunpoint before. If anyone saw him there, he was fucked. He had to get the hell out of there before someone else came to investigate the noise.  
  
It felt wrong to walk away, but he forced his feet to keep going. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he did would bring her back. It was a finality, and she would be just as gone no matter what. Campbell wasn't sure how he got home. It was a blur, and for a moment he'd hoped it had all been some sort of weird hallucination, but then he got inside the house and turned on the lights. His hands were still covered in blood. He stared at the sticky, copper-scented mess. She was gone. Cassandra was really gone.  
  
"Campbell?"  
  
He looked up, staring at Elle as she came down the stairs in a bathrobe. She stopped halfway, her gaze locking onto his hands. Campbell tried to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn't move. He couldn't breath. All he could smell was blood, and see Cassandra's eyes staring lifelessly, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Oh, god, Cassandra. Witty, ruthless Cassandra, who had been at his side when no one else had been and had promised to always be there, and--  
  
"She's dead," Campbell said. His voice was flat, distant, strange in his own ears. He waited for some sort of sorrow. Tears. Something. But there was nothing except the truth of it, clinical and straightforward. "The damn dog was out there barking and I went to look for them, and there was a gunshot and Cassandra's dead."  
  
Elle came down the stairs and moved towards him. "Dead? You're sure?"  
  
"I..." He gestured with his gory hands. "She didn't have a pulse."  
  
"Okay. Okay, breathe. Come on, come with me."  
  
He hadn't realized he'd been hyperventilating. Campbell forced himself to take a long, slow breath and follow Elle to the bathroom. She helped him out of his clothes, and got him into the shower. He scrubbed until his skin was red and raw; it still didn't feel like enough, but the blood was gone. When he got out, Elle was waiting with clean clothes. His phone and old clothes were gone. Campbell didn't ask questions, and got dressed.  
  
Elle was in the living room by the time he was finished, wrapping his clothes in plastic bags. "We can burn these later," she said quietly as he sat down on the sofa next to her. His phone was on the coffee table, completely wiped down. "In a few days, when it's less suspicious."  
  
"I didn't do it, Elle. You have to believe me."  
  
"I believe you, but we both know how it'll go if the rest of the town thinks you did it."  
  
Well, he could appreciate the matter-of-fact logic there. Campbell sat down and stared at his hands. He couldn't feel anything. It almost felt like his mind was racing, but not with thoughts or emotions. Just static. White noise. Like a broken down robot. Still, his heart was beating so fast, and Campbell felt like it was hard to swallow. He was shaking. It was summer, warm, but it felt like someone had drenched him in ice water. What was this? What was happening? It didn't make sense. None of it. How was this happening? How could Cassandra be dead?  
  
When she was done, Elle hid the clothes somewhere in the house, bringing a blanket back with her; they curled up on the sofa together, with Campbell tucked into Elle's lap. She stroked his hair until he fell asleep, the weird twisted and rushing feeling in his body guttering into a deep, terrible ache in his muscles. Rest was impossible. He kept startling awake, and even when he managed to drift off, his dreams were filled with Cassandra staring at him, soaked in blood and flipping a coin.  
  
The phone rang at 5am. Bean was on the other end, crying so hard Campbell could barely make out what she was saying. "Allie wants family to come to the hospital," she choked. "There's been an accident."  
  
It only took ten minutes to drive to the hospital. Campbell parked by the entrance, but when he went to get out, he just... couldn't. Elle sat in the passenger seat, silent. She didn't ask what was wrong. Thank fuck for that, because Campbell wouldn't have known what to tell her. He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to see their faces or deal with their crying. He didn't want to hear their questions. Was her body there? Would they make him see it? They would expect him to cry, too, but Campbell couldn't. He couldn't, and he didn't want to, because behind that padlocked door there was something dark and he didn't want to set it free. Not like this. Not yet. Not until they found Cassandra's killer.  
  
Elle's hand rested on his, and he realized he was breathing too fast again. Anxiety wouldn't help anyone. What would Cassandra do, in all this? She'd be strong, and try to help others. Campbell didn't give a shit about most of them, but he cared about Sam, and he knew Sam would be in there somewhere. He couldn't let Sam go through that alone. Maybe Campbell couldn't cry with them, but he could try to help them.  
  
The lobby of the hospital was eerily silent, save for the sound of people weeping. Allie was standing by the front desk and crying into Will's shoulder, while Kelly and Bean held each other. Sam was off to the side, his face in his hands. He bit back the bubble of loathing that rose in his chest when Kelly and Allie's eyes turned to glower at him. Campbell stood there for a moment, trying to decide which move to make first. He wanted to go to Sam, but if he breezed past Allie then she'd be even more of a problem than she was already. What did he really care about that, though? She should have fucking been there with Cassandra. She should have been there, but because she was a fucking whiny baby, Cassandra had died alone. Fuck her opinions.  
  
Campbell sat next to Sam, nudging Sam's shoulder with his own. "Hey," he signed when Sam looked up. "Is there anything I can do?"  
  
Sam searched Campbell's face. His eyes welled up, and at first he shook his head, but then he signed fast and messily, like he didn't want to say it at all. "I need you to be here. I need my brother."  
  
Something lanced through Campbell's stomach, fleeting but painful. This wasn't how they were supposed to fix things. This wasn't how they were supposed to come back together. Campbell put his arm around Sam's shoulders, and after a brief hesitation, Sam leaned against him; Campbell could be whatever Sam needed him to be, put on whatever mask Sam expected Campbell to wear, but Campbell wished he could cry with Sam. Show Sam that he felt it, too. That he understood. But the best he could do was hold Sam as he wept, rocking him until Sam was too exhausted to cry anymore.  
  
One by one, the people around them fell quiet, too. Now and then there'd be a sniffle, a raspy cough, or someone blowing their nose. Everyone looked listless. Worn. At some point, Becca arrived. She ground to a halt when she saw Campbell, and he noticed her expression turn icy. Whatever. Campbell didn't care. Whatever her problem with him was, it paled compared to what was happening. Luckily, Sam noticed her arrival, and pulled away to go to her; at least that would keep that conflict at bay, for now.  
  
"Does anyone need something to eat or drink?" Elle asked softly. A few people muttered an affirmative. "I don't think anyone checked the cafeteria here. There might be something."  
  
Bean dried her eyes and stood up. "That's a good idea. I'll come with you."  
  
Campbell stood and gave Elle a kiss on the cheek before she left. Bean glanced at him, but said nothing. Suspicion was already stirring, and why wouldn't it? Even knowing that, though, he wasn't quite ready for Allie's reaction once Elle was out of earshot.  
  
"_You_." Allie spat the word out like his mere presence was revolting. She grit her teeth, her voice accusing as her face contorted in rage. "Where were you last night? Where were you when Cassandra was killed?"  
  
Sam, who had been watching the exchange, stepped in between them ever so slightly. "Don't do this. He didn't kill Cassandra."  
  
"How do you know? Answer the fucking question, Campbell."  
  
Campbell blinked at Sam's reaction, but he shook his head. "It's fine, Sam. Look, Elle and I left prom a little early. I drove Dillon, Harry, and a couple other people home, and then we went home and stayed there all night."  
  
Allie opened her mouth, then closed it again. Anger gave way to loss as her lip quivered. "Do you know anyone who would have? Did... did anyone tell you anything? Maybe she told you about someone threatening her?"  
  
"No. I swear to you, Allie, I have no idea what did this. If I did, I'd have dragged them in here by their balls. I'm sorry."  
  
"Fine. Okay." Pressing a hand to her mouth, Allie took a step towards Campbell, but then backed away again and shook her head when her phone buzzed. "I gotta go. Gordie's doing the..."  
  
She didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. Allie turned and walked off, with Will following silently behind her. Fuck. Campbell kicked a chair and sent it skittering across the floor; everyone but Sam jumped.  
  
"What happened?" Campbell asked, raising his voice to address the entire room. "How long have you all been here?"  
  
At first, there was silence, but then Kelly spoke. "Gordie was waiting for her, but she never came home. He found her laying outside the inn a little before one." Becca went over and curled her arms around Kelly as she began to cry again. "Why was she alone? Gwen was supposed to be there. Gwen should have been there with her."  
  
So, Gwen had been AWOL at the time it happened. Campbell made a mental note. Gwen had always been a heinous twat to Cassandra, and she was friends with Lexie, who wasn't much better. Elle and Bean came back with little bags of chips and boxes of juice. Everyone took something, but no one actually ate. They all just sat and stood around like ill-tempered children on the worst camping trip of their lives. And wasn't that the truth? They were still so young. They should have been worrying about graduation and dating and jobs, not murder.  
  
Helena walked through the doors, her face perfectly neutral. "Grizz and a couple other guys are working on a grave. The rest of the guard are at the scene until Gordie gets done. They'll make sure no one tampers with it."  
  
Campbell growled. "Yeah, unless one of them did it."  
  
"Are you accusing one of them of murder?" Helena demanded, crossing her arms. "Keep in mind, my boyfriend is one of them, and I know him."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you do."  
  
Sam knocked on a chair to get their attention. "Let's not argue right now. We don't know who did this. We won't know without evidence. But the guard doesn't seem like the type."  
  
"Yeah, you're right." Campbell fixed his gaze on Helena. "Grizz is too much of a kitten, and the rest of them can't tie their fucking shoes without a how-to video, so my mistake."  
  
Helena started towards him, but Bean grabbed her arm and whispered something to her. The edge of Helena's nose twitched up in a barely suppressed sneer. Helena started to say something, but Gordie, Allie, and Will came back just then and everyone else turned their attention to Gordie.  
  
He looked ill, clutching a folder tight in his hands. "I know you all want answers. But I... I think I should take some time to look for more evidence, and talk to Allie, before I share my findings. I think you all should go home. If you hear anything, please call me or Allie right away. The funeral will be around noon."  
  
Everyone filtered out of the hospital, some starting to cry again.  
  
Elle hadn't shed a single tear, though her face was solemn as they got back to the car. When they got in, she touched his knee, her eyebrows furrowed. "I know this is such a pointless question, but are you okay? I mean, how can anyone be, but..."  
  
"I don't know." He threw the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot, focusing on the road. "I mean, I'm not going to do anything to myself if that's what you mean, but I don't know. I have to just focus on one step at a time. I can't afford to lose it."  
  
"It's okay to lose it a little. Pretty sure you almost did on Helena."  
  
"She thinks Luke shits glitter. I just can't fucking stand that mentality. Just because you love someone doesn't mean they can't do fucked up things."  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Elle laughed, but it was devoid of humor. "You're not the only one with secrets, Campbell. Let's just say I know all too well that people can surprise you in the worst ways."  
  
But then they were home, and the conversation felt over. They stepped inside the home, and it just felt... different. Strange. So, this was the _after _in the _before and after_. Campbell looked at the pictures he'd left hanging on the walls. One was of him, Cassandra, Allie, and Sam when they were younger. Before. And now, now they were in the after, and he had to find some way to pretend like the word wasn't falling down around their heads. Like shit wasn't going to fall apart without her.  
  
"I need to go see Harry," Campbell said suddenly. "Now."  
  
Frowning, Elle sat down on a stool in the kitchen. "You haven't had breakfast. Why do you need to go see him?"  
  
"Because I'm ninety percent sure he knows who did it. Stay here."  
  
It was no secret that Harry disliked Cassandra. Hate was probably a strong word; they got along, sometimes, but their rivalry was the stuff of legends. Campbell knew that Harry would be the number one suspect. The fact was, though, that Harry didn't have the guts to do something like that. Harry had a big mouth and the usual rich boy complex, but he was also fragile. Not in the sense of his masculinity, but mentally. Emotionally. He was needy, hated to confront anything that was serious, and was a follower more than a leader. No. He didn't kill Cassandra, either.  
  
But he was friends with the guard, and was familiar with some other sniveling brats who had hated-- actually hated-- Cassandra. Clingy little cockroaches that hung around Harry for the drugs and booze, who thought Harry was something special and wanted to snap up little scraps of whatever shine he had left. Parasites. And because Harry craved attention, he let them hang on. One of them? One of them definitely did it. Campbell felt it in his gut.  
  
Harry's home looked like a garbage pit. Campbell walked right in, since apparently no one locked the door anymore, and stared at the sheer amount of crap laying around. Dirty dishes stacked up, clothes everywhere, clutter on every visible surface. The place smelled vaguely like garbage. No wonder Harry was freaking out.  
  
There was faint weeping coming from various corners of the house. News must have spread. Interesting, Campbell thought as he climbed the stairs, coming from people who had looked down on Cassandra and had made her a social pariah while she was alive. It would only be a matter of time before they started claiming that they had been her friends, or had admired her, or whatever drivel people said when someone they'd ignored for eighteen years suddenly died.  
  
Curled up in bed, Harry was wrapped in blankets like some sort of sentient burrito. There were a few other people there, whispering among themselves, but they scrambled out when Campbell walked in. Good. They didn't need an audience for this.  
  
"Hey. Rise and shine."  
  
Harry's voice was muffled. He didn't move. "Is it true?"  
  
"My sex tape is just a rumor. Oh, wait. Do you mean someone murdering Cassandra?"  
  
"Fuck you, Campbell." Peeling his blanket off, Harry sat up and burrowed his hand into his hands. "How the fuck can you joke at a time like this?"  
  
"Oh, Harry, it's cute that you think I'm being funny."  
  
"What--"  
  
But Harry didn't get a chance to finish whatever he was going to say. Campbell grabbed Harry by the shirt and hauled him out of bed, slamming him up against the support post in the middle of the room. Campbell pinned him, hard. "Who did it? Huh? Which one of your little groupies killed my cousin?"  
  
"I don't know! I don't know who did it, I swear!"  
  
"Bullshit, Harry! Use your goddamn brain. People don't just go shooting someone. Did anyone say something? Was someone pissed off at her?"  
  
Harry squirmed in his grip. "A lot of people were pissed off at her, Cam, including me. But no one said anything about..." Suddenly, Harry stopped struggling. His eyes widened as his body went slack. "Oh. Oh fuck."  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
"I... Oh god, I didn't mean to."  
  
"Mean to what? Spit it the fuck out."  
  
"It was at the party I had before prom. We were all drunk already, and I just. I was mad, okay? I was mad and the guys were talking shit about Cassandra, and I just. I didn't mean it, but I said that if she were dead we'd have some peace and quiet."  
  
Fury moved through him faster than he could think, and _oh _he wanted to hurt Harry. His hands tightened on Harry's shoulders, and he felt that urge start to crest, but he could see the fear in Harry's eyes; it gave him just a split second of clarity. Campbell let go of Harry and turned his back to him, taking deep breaths. Back away, back away. Get out of the situation before that anger returned.  
  
"This conversation is over," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Get dressed. You're going to make a list of everyone who was there when you said that, and we're going to give that list to Gordie when we go to the funeral."  
  
Sinking onto his bed, Harry flinched as Campbell tossed him a pad of paper and a pen; he obeyed and began to scribble down names. In the meantime, Campbell began to clean up the garbage around Harry's bedroom. As pissed off as Campbell was, he knew Harry hadn't meant any harm to come to Cassandra, and _Let's Clean Up Harry's Home!_ was a familiar way to blow off steam. If he crushed a few soda cans with his foot or threw the garbage into a bag a little harder than necessary when no one was looking, well, that was better than the alternative.  
  
He shouldn't have done what he did. Campbell knew that. Hurting Harry, scaring him, wouldn't solve anything. If something Harry said got Cassandra killed, it still hadn't been Harry's fault. Murder was a choice, just like shoving someone around was a choice. Fuck. He sighed as he took the trash outside, then came in and stood in the kitchen. His hand moved towards his phone on instinct; whenever he felt like this, like a tornado about to touch down, he would call Cassandra. For a tiny, tiny fraction of a second, he had forgotten. Cassandra had helped him learn to control his rage, and it usually worked, but now she was about to be put under a few feet of dirt. She'd never answer his calls again.  
  
Instead, he began washing the dishes. They needed to be scrubbed at that point, and it helped get rid of the remaining urge to break things. Soft footsteps came up behind him. Campbell could smell Harry's cologne, light and floral. Guilty, by Gucci. Fitting. He braced for some sort of fight, but Harry just rested his forehead against the back of Campbell's shoulder. Campbell sighed, but didn't shrug him off. What good would it do?  
  
Harry took a towel and began to dry the plates. They worked in silence, until Harry stared down at the towel in his hands and let out a heaving, rattling sigh. His eyes were red and puffy; maybe he hadn't hated Cassandra as much as he'd always pretended, after all, but it was too late for that now and they both knew it. "What do we do?"  
  
"Go to the funeral, say our goodbyes, and then wait."  
  
"Wait for what?"  
  
"To see how bad things get."  
  
"We're fucked, aren't we?"  
  
He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. But maybe there was still a chance, if someone who knew what they were doing took control. Who? Campbell had no idea. His thoughts were running too fast to puzzle it out. He didn't want to talk anymore; he just wanted to get through the fucking day before whatever was keeping him held together fell apart.  
  
Setting the last dish down, Harry sunk down onto a kitchen chair and brought out a slip of paper from his pocket; he set it on the counter, and Campbell picked it up. Jason, Greg, Scott, Travis, Mark. A bunch of jerks, mostly. Travis was alright, and Jason seemed too much like a big doof to kill anyone, even if he was a creep.  
  
Campbell put the list in a pocket and gestured towards the door. "Come on. You're going with me."  
  
"What? No."  
  
"Yes, you are. You're gonna come over and hang with me and Elle for a while, and then we're all going to go. Being here moping isn't going to help either of us."  
  
Harry gave up in the end, like always, and followed Campbell home. Elle seemed surprised to see him, but they made a light lunch and sat around the living room doing their own things. Campbell played a video game, Elle read, Harry laid down and pretended to be a rock. Whatever. At least Campbell could keep an eye on him that way.  
  
Once it was close to noon, the three of them arrived at the church. They were almost at the door when Harry stopped, staring up at the door like a man about to be hanged.  
  
Campbell looked to Elle. "Hey, babe? Can you go inside and save us a seat?" Elle glanced between them, then nodded. He waited until she was inside before turning back to Harry. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I can't go in. Allie will be there. She'll think I did it."  
  
"She'll think that if you don't go in, too. Okay? Don't bail on me."  
  
Harry bit his bottom lip, but he didn't argue; he followed Campbell into the church without protest, keeping his head down and sticking close to Campbell. They made it a few paces in when Campbell spotted Will walking towards them, eyes narrowed and anger coming off him in waves.  
  
"You guys have a lot of balls," Will seethed. "Showing up here. We all know how you felt about Cassandra, Harry. You were super fucking clear."  
  
Campbell stepped between him and Harry, holding firm. "Will, don't do this."  
  
"You think you have any room to speak? You, _you _pointed a fucking _gun _at her. Both of you, get out. Now."  
  
"Go to hell. I'm family. I loved Cassandra, and I'm not leaving."  
  
Will's voice raised to a growling shout. "Get the fuck out!"  
  
Before Campbell could speak, Gordie zipped up and grabbed Will by the shoulder. "What the hell is going on? What are you doing, Will?"  
  
"Taking out the trash."  
  
"Isn't this bad enough already?"  
  
"Allie doesn't need to see them here."  
  
Campbell pulled the list of names from his jacket, holding it up to Gordie. "Harry and I came up with a list of guys that were shittalking Cassandra at his party the night she was killed. Brought it as a peace offering."  
  
Will opened his mouth, then stopped. He looked back and forth between them, then over to Gordie, who took the paper and read it over. Gordie gave Will a look, and Will let out a short, quick breath. "Fine. But you don't talk to Allie."  
  
That wasn't going to be a problem. Campbell put a hand on Harry's back and guided him to where Elle was sitting; she took Campbell's hand as he sat between her and Harry, and he squeezed it. Luckily, no one else spoke to any of them. Campbell didn't need the confrontation. He didn't want it.  
  
Allie walked to the front of the church and cleared her throat. Whatever small amount of talking there had been quieted down. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, but to her credit, she managed to keep it held to together. "My sister, Cassandra, was good," she started. "She was a good person. She was captain of the debate team. You didn't want to argue with her."  
  
There were a few scattered laughs. Even Allie managed a tiny smile. But then she continued, and that smile turned into a darker expression, and her composed mask crumbled. "Who did this? Huh?" She looked around the room. Her gaze briefly stopped on Harry. "Who shot my sister? Why did you do that? We needed her!" she shouted. Allie began to cry, and Will came up to lead her off the stage. "I needed her!"  
  
Campbell bowed his head at that last wrenching, despondent wail. No one else spoke, and after a few minutes, the guard gathered at the front of the church. Cassandra's body lay there.  
  
"We thought we'd give people a few minutes to come say goodbye," Grizz said softly. "In case it'd help anyone."  
  
A few wandered up and formed a small line. Sam was one of the last; Campbell stood and walked down the aisle, ignoring the glares and whispers around him. Sam gave Campbell a grateful look as he approached and stood at his side. They went up together. Someone had pulled back the sheet Cassandra's body was wrapped in, just enough to catch a glimpse of her face. She was pale, eyes closed, clean of blood.  
  
"She looks peaceful," Sam signed. "Like she's sleeping."  
  
Campbell lifted his hands to sign back, but they just fluttered there uselessly. "She's free from pain now," he finally managed to sign.  
  
He leaned down and kissed Cassandra's forehead, his touch lingering for just one more moment before he turned and headed back to his seat without a word. If he opened his mouth again, he had no idea what would happen. The guard waited a moment, then wrapped the body back up and carried her out to the yard. She was buried next to Emily, with nothing but a crude wooden cross marking her final resting place. Cassandra would have laughed at the irony. Campbell wasn't laughing.  
  
"Eternal rest, grant her O Lord," Helena spoke, "and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen."  
  
Some of the others echoed the amen. Biting his tongue, Campbell resisted the urge to just scream. Elle took his hand as they headed home, her eyebrows knitted together in worry as they walked in silence.  
  
When they returned home, Campbell took off his jacket and threw it onto the sofa. "Fuck, what a joke. She would have hated that shit," he said as he ran his hands through his hair. "She hated Christianity."  
  
"I think it was more for everyone else."  
  
"Must have been, because goddamn Helena didn't even ask what Cassandra believed or would have wanted." Campbell couldn't sit still. He needed to move. He needed to get the feeling in his body out of it. "You know, when she was younger and thought about dying, she talked about how she wanted her funeral to be. She wanted to be cremated and scattered at the ocean. She wanted Beatles music, and for people to dance. She..."  
  
Tears made his vision swim, and suddenly that wall that he'd been keeping up all day crumbled. He'd barely cried his entire fucking life, and now it was the second, third time since they'd arrived in their new hellscape. Weak. He was going weak, and if he did, how could he protect anyone? The one good thing about his fucked up brain had been that he could disconnect at will. And this, he couldn't make it stop. All he could do was stand there and sob, like the night he thought his disorder would push people away. Now reality set in even harder-- the people closest to him could die, and he truly would be alone, no matter how good or bad he was.  
  
It wasn't fair. It wasn't the least bit fair.  
  
Sudden pressure on his arm made Campbell yank back. "Don't fucking touch me!" he snapped, his head immediately going to when his father would grab him whenever Campbell would cry as a child. But then he stopped, remembering where he was and with who, and he felt a new wave of grief at the stunned look on Elle's face. "Elle, I'm sorry."  
  
"I didn't mean to upset you."  
  
"No, no. It's not your fault. I'm just... I need a moment."  
  
Campbell went upstairs and shut the door. He picked up his pillow and just stopped fighting it; he hit it against the wall, punched it, cursing his head off at it. He kept going until his arms and throat were sore, and he was curled up in the bed, hugging the pillow and shaking. She was dead, gone, buried, and the one person who understood and accepted him completely had been stolen from him. From her entire family. Something that happened every day, he knew, but it had never happened to him. Not in any way that had mattered.  
  
It wasn't even two o'clock, but he was already more tired than he could ever remember being in his life. He heard the door click open, and a moment later, the mattress dipped behind him. Elle nestled against his back; she didn't touch him exactly, but she was there, and her presence soothed some little part of him.  
  
"We'll find the person who did this, Campbell," she said as he dozed off. "Sooner or later, someone will slip up."  
  
"Yeah, and when we do, I'm going to make the fucker suffer."  
  
He was asleep before he could feel Elle stiffen, just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, everyone, and your feedback. <3 Due to life happening-- and family visiting at the end of the month-- the story is officially on a VERY TEMPORARY hiatus while I get as much done as possible between now and then. Thank you for your patience and continued support! Stay safe, be well.


	2. Chapter 2

Life tried to go back to normal. At least, whatever normal had been before.  
  
It wasn't working. It had been days, close to a week. No one was doing anything. The food staff wasn't coming in on time, or at all, from what Campbell heard. Garbage was rotting on the roadsides. Campbell tried to go out and do what he could; it was what Cassandra would have wanted, and it kept his mind occupied, but it was just too much. The last job he'd had according to the charts had been clean up, but people were making messes faster than the messes could be managed.  
  
Most days, Campbell ended up as Cassandra's grave. He'd clean away the leaves and dirt, make sure the candles were lit, and check for vandalism. No one had dared to do anything. Probably because Campbell stayed and tried to get his head clear. He couldn't talk to her, not yet, but just feeling close to her was enough to soothe some of the terrible ache in his chest. Elle was one of the few people actually going to work, and Harry was holed up in his house, so it wasn't like Campbell could distract himself with them. Even when Elle was home, it was like there was some wall between them. She slept in her own room and barely spoke.  
  
Well, maybe it was grief. Everyone processed it differently. And now, everyone seemed on edge. Stressed out. Suspicious. It was hard enough to deal with when it was a freak accident, but now there was a murderer in their midst. Campbell couldn't blame Elle for needing some time to think things through, so he went about his work and figured she'd talk to him when she was ready. Besides. It gave him time to try and get his mood under control.  
  
Not that it was working well. The smallest things felt like mountains, and little shit he hadn't cared about before set him off; he'd kept his fists to himself so far, but only because Campbell redirected his anger. Someone ran into him at lunch one day, and Campbell ended up putting a hole in the drywall of the hallway because he just wanted to make something break. At home, he tried to make breakfast but it had burned, and he'd ended up throwing the plate against a wall.  
  
"I'm sorry," Campbell said when Elle rushed in to see what had happened. "I'll clean it up. I just..."  
  
But he couldn't finish that sentence. There was no excuse, so what was the point in trying to make one? He shouldn't have done it. Elle said nothing. She brought him a broom, and Campbell cleaned up the mess as promised. They ate breakfast in silence, hugged at the door, and went about their days. Campbell hadn't even gotten to work, though, when his phone rang.  
  
Dillon was on the other end of the line, his voice strained. "Hey, Campbell? You told me to contact you if I noticed anything weird with Harry."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Something's weird. He's just laying out by the pool. Kelly came to see him and she left looking pissed. He hasn't moved in hours."  
  
"I'll be there."  
  
Campbell hung up the phone and changed route. This was a mess, too, and a far more urgent one than hauling food scraps to the dump. Dillon let him inside and gestured to the pool, his expression more than a little concerned. Campbell went alone. Harry was laying on his stomach, hand in the pool water and tracing shapes in the dark green water; there was a scum forming on the surface of the water, and garbage floating in it. Disgusting.  
  
"You're gonna get a disease from that water," Campbell said, using the toe of his shoe to tap at the bottom on Harry's foot. "Get out of there."  
  
Harry rolled over and sat up. His pupils were huge, and the smile he gave Campbell was a little too sedate. "Two visitors in one day. Lucky me."  
  
"What are you on?"  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
Campbell sighed and grabbed Harry by the arm, hauling him up and sitting him on a pool chair. "You can't do this, Harry." He brushed the dirty off Harry's face and clothes. "You can't keep getting fucked up and letting yourself drown."  
  
"Why not? Maybe I should."  
  
"Do you honestly mean that?"  
  
"I dunno. Maybe."  
  
Sitting down, Campbell let Harry lean against him. "Do you really feel like killing yourself? Be serious with me." He stroked Harry's back when Harry gave a tiny, quick nod. "Alright. Look, you're coming back to the house with me. Just for a few days. There's the guest room left over, and you're taking it."  
  
If Harry had been planning to argue again, he decided not to. Campbell didn't know much on how to help people, but he knew that back when he wanted to hurt himself, it was Harry and Cassandra who help keep him going. Being around a bunch of snippy people cluttering up his space wouldn't make Harry feel better. Campbell followed Harry back inside and helped him gather some of his things; it was more than a few days worth, and Campbell wondered if Harry already had a hunch that he wouldn't be coming back any time soon.  
  
Before they left, Harry stopped by his sister's room and picked up a framed photo of the two of them, and a weird stuffed toy. "She loved those goddamn Ugly Dolls. I got it for her for her birthday," Harry mumbled. "It was her favorite thing."  
  
"Don't talk like she's dead, okay?"  
  
"What if she is?"  
  
Campbell shook his head. There was nothing he could say, because he had no idea what was true or not, and trying to convince Harry that everything would be fine was a waste of breath. All he could do was take him back to the house and help him unpack. The guest room was downstairs and overlooked the garden; it was quiet and beautiful, and with any luck it'd bring Harry some sort of peace.  
  
The one thing that concerned Campbell in all of this was Elle. He hadn't asked her about letting Harry move in, but she'd been supportive before of Campbell trying to help him. Elle came home not too long after, with a few other girls walking with her. Campbell was sitting on the front steps, waiting, and preparing in his head some big long speech about what was going on and why Harry needed to be there.  
  
"Is everything okay?" Elle asked, tilting her head as she approached. "You look worried."  
  
Campbell stood and came over to kiss her on the hair. "I am, a little. Harry's been having a rough time, so I told him he could stay with us for a few days."  
  
"Oh. Well, we have the room."  
  
"We do."  
  
"It should be good, right? Will it help you, having a friend around?"  
  
It was a good question. Campbell had only known that if Harry killed himself, Campbell would be out two of the three most important people in his life. He couldn't just let that happen. But Elle was right. Campbell had been a mess, and the idea of Harry being close did make him feel a bit more comforted. "Yeah, I think so."  
  
"I'm glad." Elle kissed his cheek. "I should go say hi, then."  
  
Thankfully, the two seemed to get along once they actually shared the same space for more than five minutes. Harry, when he was alone and away from obnoxious so-called friends, was quiet and placating; Elle was introverted, but kind. Campbell made dinner while they kept him company, and once Harry lowered his guard and sobered up a bit, it was the first nice evening Campbell could remember having since Cassandra died.  
  
But then Campbell noticed something... odd. Elle was avoiding him. Campbell had brushed it off as being upset, before, but as the first week of chaos oozed into week two it became obvious that something was off. She slept in her own room, spoke less, and took more shifts to the point that she was only home in the evenings. She flinched sometimes, or would give him a strange look that almost was appraising. Like she was trying to decide something, but couldn't figure it out. Was it because of his behavior? Campbell considered it, and decided it had to be. He knew he'd been more moody lately, but he had tried hard to make sure he hadn't hit any walls or thrown anything. Still. Had he scared her?  
  
Campbell went to work and mulled it over, and decided he'd talk to Elle that night; if something was wrong, it'd be better to get it out in the open sooner rather than later, wouldn't it? He knew there were rumors going around that he'd killed Cassandra, or knew who did. Kyle, apparently grateful for the wheelchair ramps that had sprung up around town after Campbell's suggestion, had let him in on that not-so-secret secret. Emily was friends with Gwen and Lexie, and she'd told him the two had been whispering about it. Elle worked with Emily and Lexie in the kitchen sometimes. It was a little suspicious.  
  
But Elle believed him. Didn't she?  
  
"Do you think I'm capable of murder?" Campbell asked Harry when he got back home, bringing Harry a cup of tea. "Honest answers, please."  
  
Harry was wrapped up in a blanket, huddled in bed still with a five-day shadow. He sipped the tea, considering, then shook his head. "Come here."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come here. Come on."  
  
Campbell flopped into bed next to Harry, startled when Harry tossed half of the blanket over him. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Trust me. Just stay there for a few minutes."  
  
It was stuffy, but some combination of darkness and the weight of the blanket helped Campbell relax a little. He didn't remember feeling tired, but Campbell woke up a bit later, groggy but far less jittery than he'd felt before. Crawling out from the blankets, Campbell blinked at Harry, who was laying next to him and staring up at the ceiling.  
  
"Is that why you're in here all day?" Campbell wondered. "You're tired?"  
  
"A little. I feel tired all the time. My body hurts. But also, I just don't want to be conscious, so sleeping takes care of that."  
  
"Ever considered trading in the partying for an antidepressant?"  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
Campbell sat there for a moment, watching Harry. He wanted to offer some sort of comfort, but he didn't know how. Instead, he got up and headed to the kitchen to make dinner before Elle got home. Boxed mac and cheese wasn't anything super fancy, but Harry liked it, and he needed to eat; it didn't need to be fancy, it just had to have calories. Campbell made some frozen vegetables to go on the side. He knew they should go eat at the cafeteria like Cassandra had wanted for everyone. If he could just get Harry back on his feet...  
  
Elle came through the door a little bit after everything was ready. "Hey," she greeted. "That smells good. I smuggled home dessert."  
  
Dessert was, as it turned out, Twinkies that Elle had snagged when no one was looking. Not an honest move, but it seemed to boost morale with all three of them, so who could complain? Campbell poked around at his food while Elle and Harry discussed what was going on outside. It was nights like this that Campbell wondered if he was imagining things. Everything appeared to be normal. Happy, calm.  
  
After dinner, Elle took a shower and was doing her night routine when Campbell wandered in, hoping she was in a good enough mood to talk a little. "How was today?"  
  
"Weird. Bad." Elle rubbed some sort of serum on her face. Turning around, she leaned against the sink and crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you know Brandon?"  
  
"Eggles? I had to knock a lot of sense into that one. He's a loser. What did he do?"  
  
"He was walking around today with a gun hanging out of his pants, like it was no big deal."  
  
Campbell stepped closer and settled on the counter next to her. She looked down at the floor, but not before Campbell saw the taut expression on her face. "You're scared of him."  
  
"We all are. Shit, Campbell, we're scared of everyone. People have been walking around in packs. A bunch of us walk together at night now, and we're always looking over our shoulder. It's terrifying."  
  
"You could have called me to come get you."  
  
"I didn't want to bother you."  
  
Since when would it have bothered him? Campbell held his tongue, because he knew before he asked that he hadn't been the best company since the shooting. "I know I've been irritable lately, and I'm sorry. I'm not dealing with the loss. But I can't lose you too, Elle. Let me protect you."  
  
"That's such a guy thing to say."  
  
"Look, don't be that way. It's not a bother to walk you home. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you."  
  
Elle pushed off the counter and brushed past him to go out the door. He followed, but she always kept a few paces ahead of him, and moved so that the bed was between them. "You can't promise me that," she said. Her eyes held a cold sort of anger he'd never seen from anyone before. "You can't promise me something like that, unless you know something I don't."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"Some of the girls were talking, and--"  
  
"Everyone in this town talks!" he interrupted, his voice rising. Campbell took a breath and forced himself to speak calmly. "They all accuse me of shit, they always have. You know I didn't do it. You said you believed me."  
  
"I had to lie for you."  
  
"So what? I told you what happened."  
  
"You were with me all night. That's what I'll tell them if people start poking around. You were with me when it happened, so you couldn't have pulled the trigger."  
  
Campbell felt his stomach drop. "But?"  
  
"You've been acting strange, Campbell. It worries me."  
  
And there it was. Campbell tried to find something to say, some words that would convince her completely, but he knew there weren't any. He could see it on her face that someone had said something. Someone had turned her against him, or tried to. And wasn't it his own fault, for it being so easy to believe? "Elle, I promise you, I had nothing to do with what happened."  
  
Elle stared at him, then seemed to deflate. She pushed her face into her hands, and let out an unsteady sigh. "I need to go to bed. I'm really tired."  
  
"Hey." This time, when he stepped forward, Elle didn't move away. Campbell curled his arms around her and gently kissed her temple. "Let's go out and get lunch tomorrow, okay? Just you and me. We can talk about this once you've had some sleep."  
  
She nodded, leaning against him for a moment before pulling away and going to her room. Campbell lay in his own bed, eyes trained on the ceiling as he tried to convince himself to sleep. There had to be a way to fix this. Maybe if he just found someone else to talk to... Harry wasn't an option, and neither was Sam. He had no right going to Sam and exoect mental health advice. But maybe Grizz? Grizz seemed level headed, and maybe he knew some way to get better.  
  
Not that it'd do much good, if Elle didn't want to fix things. But after a long, sleepless night, and a long morning of getting Harry comfortable and fed, Elle showed up from her morning work shift right at lunch. She was waiting by the cafeteria door, and she smiled faintly when Campbell arrived. They didn't say much. At least, not until they got to their table. Once they sat down and got comfortable, both of them tried to talk at once.  
  
"You first," Campbell offered.  
  
Elle toyed with her little carton of milk. She tried to to open it, but of course they never opened quite right. "I just remember what Cassandra said, when we had the meeting with just us girls. And Blake," she added. Blake had come out as genderqueer the year before. "And saying it was just a matter of time before someone got raped. But you know, she got murdered instead. And I just... Nothing feels safe anymore."  
  
"And I made that worse."  
  
"Honestly? Yeah."  
  
"Do you really think that I'd ever hurt _you_?"  
  
"How am I supposed to know? You've beaten other people up. I mean how long is it before you..." Elle trailed off, stabbing her knife into her milk carton and prying it open. She didn't have to finish that sentence. He knew what she was thinking. "I just don't want to be scared."  
  
"Is there anything I can do to fix this? I can read some self-help books, or something. I can leave for a few days."  
  
"Leave?"  
  
"Until I get my shit together again. I can do it." Campbell knew how it sounded. He knew I'll change I swear and just give me another chance usually never worked out, but what other option was there? It wasn't to late. He'd always thought that he'd done pretty damn good, all things considered, but he could be better. "I want to be better, for you."  
  
Elle started to reply, when a loud bang rang out through the cafeteria and people began to scream. Campbell dove at Elle and snatched her wrist, pulling her under the table. He couldn't see what was happening, but he could hear two voices yelling. Their best bet was to figure a way out and run. But it was an open area, and he didn't know if the shooter was between them and the exits or not. Was it worth the risk of getting shot?  
  
Suddenly, the fire alarm went off. A horrible move. There was a stampede as everyone rushed towards the doors. Campbell covered Elle as best as he could as a wave of people rushed by; they tucked into a ball on their sides, and Campbell covered Elle's head. Once there was a safe opening, they both bolted out from under the table and made a break for it. He kept a hold of her so they wouldn't get separated; there was an exit out the staff room that most people didn't know about, and Campbell led them out through it. They made it outside and kept running until they reached home.  
  
"Fuck," Elle gasped at they stopped in the front yard. Campbell had never heard her curse much, but Elle was shaking hard and clinging to his shirt as a long string of expletives followed the first. "This can't keep fucking happening."  
  
Campbell held her tight, stroking her back. "No, it can't. Are you hurt?"  
  
"No, I'm okay. Just pissed."  
  
"Would you be okay staying here with Harry? I need to go find Allie and Sam."  
  
"Yeah. Text me."  
  
Kissing her hair, Campbell waited for her to get inside and lock the door before heading out on his own. _Where are you_, he texted to Sam. _Are you and Allie okay?_  
  
Sam answered within the minute. _Everyone's safe. We're home. Are you okay? Is Elle okay?  
  
We're just shaken up.  
  
Where are you?  
  
Heading over._  
  
Campbell locked his phone before Sam could text back and tell him not to show up. He had to talk to Allie, now, before things got any worse. Something had to be done to get the town back on track. Of course she would be grieving, he understood that, but there'd be more dead to bury soon if someone didn't take control.  
  
Knocking on the door of Cassandra's... Allie's home, Campbell was surprised when Grizz opened the door. "Where's Allie?"  
  
"Not a good time, Campbell."  
  
"And it won't be for a while. Seriously, let me talk to her."  
  
"About?"  
  
"About who's taking over for Cassandra. As much as I love the whole Survivor vibe going on out there, it's going to get people killed."  
  
Grizz frowned. He glanced over his shoulder, and Campbell could see Luke, Sam, and some others sitting at a table behind him. "We've been talking about that, actually." Stepping outside, Grizz closed the door behind him and lowered his voice. "Finding someone to take over and enforce the rules."  
  
"Yeah? And who have you come up with?"  
  
"Nobody. The only ones here who actually know what they're doing would just have a big target on their back anyways. You know what this town is like. No one's gonna listen to Will or Gordie. Don't suppose you know anyone who'd be interested?"  
  
The problem was image, and social context. Wheels started turning in his head, dark thoughts dancing along them. Campbell had ideas that Cassandra had never gotten around to implementing, things he could get done, but he'd need a pretty face to present them to the crowd. Harry would have been ideal for that, but Harry was too low and he would be challenged for sure. Why Harry? What right did he have to step in? The only way Harry would get in would be if he got on his feet and looked like an ideal alternative. It was clear who should take over, for the time being; if she sunk the ship, it'd be all too easy for Campbell to arrange things to his liking. And if she did a good job, well, there'd be no need to interfere. Either way, win.  
  
"Allie," Campbell said. "It has to be Allie."  
  
Grizz walked over and herded Campbell a few paces away from the house. He leaned closer, whispering. "Do you think she'll go for it? I mean, we all know that Cassandra was the serious one. Allie's just... different."  
  
"She won't want to, but she has to. It makes sense for her to. If anyone else tries to grab for power right now, it'll just be a bloodbath. If she steps up, she has a reason to. She's shadowed Cassandra enough, she knows how things go. People will pity her. That'll last just long enough for her to get her feet under her."  
  
"How do we convince her?"  
  
"Do you know anything about anger management?"  
  
Grizz scratched his head. "Wait, what does that have to do with anything?" After Campbell just stood there tapping his foot, Grizz tossed his hands up in the air a bit. "Yeah, yeah. I guess. I mean, I had some social stuff growing up I had to learn on my own. I was really into Jung for a while. Why?"  
  
"She'll take the idea better from you guys anyways, so I'll tell you how to convince her if you help me figure out how to deal with all this shit before I lose Elle."  
  
"Who says you're gonna lose Elle?"  
  
"The hole I punched in the wall at school."  
  
"Oh. Oh, well, uh. I can try. Yeah. Yeah, I'll do it."  
  
"Fantastic." Campbell peered up at the house to make sure no one was listening through any of the windows. "Cassandra wasn't just her sister. She was everything. When Sam got sick, me, I got anger and bitter. Allie got protective. Allie would have given anything, done anything. She would have traded her own life for Cassandra. Use that sense of duty."  
  
"That feels so underhanded."  
  
"In case you haven't noticed, underhanded is my thing."  
  
Rubbing the back of his neck, Grizz sighed. "Why do I feel like I just shook hands with the devil?"  
  
Campbell smiled. "I'll talk to you soon?"  
  
Grizz gave him a tiny mock salute before retreating into the house. Sam was coming to the door just as Grizz was trying to go in; they looked at each other a moment, and Campbell smirked at the little blush that came over them both as they scooted past each other. Cute.  
  
"What?" Sam signed, catching the amusement on Campbell's face. "Stop that."  
  
"Nothing. I was just going. Happy you didn't get trampled, bro."  
  
"Don't go. I miss you. I don't want something bad to happen, and have this be the last we remember of each other."  
  
"And I don't want that either, Sam." Campbell kicked at a little patch of grass. Might as well explain as best as he could, before one of them got shot next. "But I did what I did to try and keep you safe, okay? I get it. I do. But we've always butted heads, and I think it's better for you if we keep our distance a bit longer. I want to keep you safe from me."  
  
"That's fine." Not what Campbell expected to hear, but the look on Sam's face-- calm, determined-- seemed to say he meant it. "Take whatever time you need. I understand. But I'm not asking to come back home. I just want to be able to see you. You're the only brother I have."  
  
"And you're not worried I'm some killer?" Campbell scoffed when Sam didn't reply. Really? Here they were, having the you're my only brother talk, and the kid couldn't even say he thought Campbell was innocent? "Right. Figures."  
  
He started to walk away, but arms wrapped around him from behind; Sam hugged him hard, burrowing his cheek against Campbell's back. Campbell turned, hugging Sam back. When they pulled away, Sam looked sadder than Campbell had remembered seeing him in a while. Campbell ruffled Sam's hair; Sam went back inside without another word. Campbell watched his back for a moment before turning towards home.  
  
Small steps forward were better than nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is officially back from hiatus! <3 Thank you for your patience. Please ignore the glitchy note below this, if you see it-- A)3 is having a hiccup.


	3. Chapter 3

Death had a way of changing things.  
  
Harry actually came out of his room to get dinner. They watched a movie together, with Campbell between them; Elle snuggled against his side, not seeing that Harry was gripping Campbell's hand tightly under the big blanket they shared. Elle slept in Campbell's bed that night, her face pressed against his arm and her arms tangled around him. They were frightened. All Campbell could do was let them cling to him as much as they wanted; it helped them feel safer, reassured, and he drank up the attention.  
  
The next day, they all received texts at breakfast. There was to be a meeting at the church, with Allie speaking to the wayward congregation. So, Grizz and his band of merry folk had managed to persuade her. Everyone was whispering in speculation as they shifted around in the church pews. _Maybe they caught Cassandra's killer_, one teen suggested. Ridiculous. If the killer had been caught, everyone would know already.  
  
The doors of the church opened as Allie came down the aisle, flanked by the guard.  
  
She stood at the podium, head high and shoulders back. She had a flare of something Cassandra didn't have, that Campbell couldn't put his finger on right out of the gate. Whatever it was, it gave Allie the nerve to she needed to speak. "In the name of my sister, I'm taking over the responsibility of keeping us all safe. Of reinstating and enforcing the rules that she established. All the things that made this place work." Her voice was clear, loud, as she glanced around the room. "Is there anyone who objects?"  
  
Harry glanced to Campbell. Campbell said nothing. No one did. Just as Campbell thought, everyone was willing to let Allie take control.  
  
"Okay," Allie continued. "New work lists will be posted this afternoon. Starting immediately, I'm going to be confiscating all guns. Every last one."  
  
Helena let out a shout of protest. "You can't do that!"  
  
Allie looked at Helena, eyes cold. "I can, and I _will_. We don't need them. All they're good for is getting people killed. I'm not gonna let what happened to my sister happen to anyone else."  
  
And that was that. No voting, unanimous or otherwise. Allie walked back out, leaving everyone else still whispering, and more than a few people fuming. Campbell sat and listened. Watched. Took note of who was angry. Helena stormed out, mouth twisted in rage; Campbell had never seen her quite so mad before, though it figured that Sister Christian was a gun lover. That seemed to be how things went-- thou shall not murder, unless the fucker deserves it. The only thing thicker than their Bibles were their hypocrisy.  
  
But whatever, it'd get some weapons off the street. And, hopefully, make people less on edge. Campbell didn't see much of his old friends, the precious few he'd had, but Elaine told him at lunch that she'd heard the shooting yesterday had been some fool dropping a gun. A ban would help lower the chances of that, anyways. Too bad the damage had already been done. Sure, nothing had actually happened, but their generation had grown up with active shooter drills and news of school shootings plastered everywhere more times than anyone could count; Cassandra's death had brought the idea home to roost. The mood in the cafeteria was low, with everyone glancing around and jumping at every little sound. Someone dropped a tray, and a few kids started crying.  
  
Campbell walked to Allie's house after lunch, stopping by his own home first to fetch the gun he stole from Harry's mother. It was the best gesture of good will he had to offer. Not that he expected it to work; Allie was stubborn, and never forgot a slight. It would either make her a good figurehead or a terrible one. They'd find out soon enough. The asshole sitting in front of her home's door didn't fill Campbell with much hope.  
  
Clark was sitting on the steps. When he saw Campbell coming, he stood up and blocked Campbell's path. "Hey, nobody comes in without approval. What do you want?"  
  
"I need to talk to Allie."  
  
"Stop." Clark made a spinning motion with his finger, a smug look on his face. "Turn around and put your hands on your head."  
  
Campbell wanted to kick the guy in the junk, but he grit his teeth and did as he was ordered. He jumped, though, when Clark's hands were on him without warning. A pat down. "Seriously?" he snapped. This was the kind of shit Allie was choosing to put in charge of the rules. "What are you doing?"  
  
Clark took the gun and dangled it. "Could ask you the same. What the fuck, man?"  
  
"That's why I'm here, asshole. Allie didn't give us a place to turn them in, so I brought it here to hand over. I didn't know there was gonna be a fucking TSA check."  
  
"Keep your hands on your head."  
  
"You gonna pull out the handcuffs next, officer?"  
  
Clark-- still smirking-- led him into the house. Allie entered the front room a few seconds after, glaring at Campbell the minute she noticed him. Clark held out the gun to Allie. "Found this on him. He wanted to see you."  
  
"I came here to turn it in," Campbell repeated. "Is this really necessary, Allie? We're cousins."  
  
Allie took the gun and shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything, now. Everyone's a suspect until the killer, and anyone who helped them, is caught."  
  
"Look, you're in the right. This situation is fucked up, and I agree that none of us need guns. I'm on your side here, just like I was on Cassandra's side."  
  
"This is the gun you threatened her with before. Isn't it?"  
  
"Jesus christ, Allie, I didn't _threaten _her. The gun was empty. It was a ploy to see who stood with Cassandra and who didn't. She knew that. I did the shit I did to help her, not hurt her."  
  
"Would you do the same for me?"  
  
An interesting question. Campbell met Allie's eyes, trying to get a read on her thoughts. She wasn't like Cassandra; she wore her emotions right on her face, including contempt. "What Cassandra and I had going only worked because we trusted each other completely. Unless you're willing to do the same, I can't help you."  
  
"Right. Anything else?" Allie asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then go."  
  
Campbell was glad to leave. Allie had her little group, and she didn't have room for him in those ranks. That was fine. He didn't want to be there anyways, in case Allie drove things into the ground, but he worried about no longer having access to what was going on. Cassandra had always tried to keep him in the loop. Except Sam would know, wouldn't he? It was a good excuse for Campbell to make up with his brother, when he wouldn't allow himself an excuse before. Of course he wanted to keep his distance, but well, if it was to get information about their dear leader, surely it would be okay to go for a walk or get same re-reheated tater tots together.  
  
Campbell traveled to the edge of town, overlooking the railroad tracks. He remembered their first night there, and how he'd seen Cassandra afraid for the first time in so, so long. Of course she'd stumbled a little at first, but she'd bounced back and returned to her iron-clad self in no time. She'd always seemed so indomitable, like their own personal Boudicca. He wanted Allie to be that, now that Cassandra was gone. Political intrigue was never Campbell's thing. It would be best if Allie could just grow up and take her place as their new leader, and find a way to return the order to the town. But what if she didn't? There were plenty of good people in town, but what if they didn't want to try?  
  
He sat on the ground, leaning his head against the bars of the bridge and closing his eyes. "You should still be here," Campbell spoke to the air. "You should still be here with me."  
  
If he held still enough, if he slowed his breathing enough, Campbell could imagine that he felt Cassandra's hand resting on his. He could imagine that he felt her next to him, could almost hear her soft breathing. How long he was there, he didn't know, but it started to get cool and the sky began to get darker. The sound of bang in the distance-- a car backfiring, probably-- jerked him out of his meditative stillness. His eyes opened and revealed the truth. He was alone. She wasn't there, and never had been, but it had been a welcome illusion all the same.  
  
Campbell went home, walking faster than usual just in case the backfire wasn't a backfire at all. The house was dimly lit, and Campbell could hear a faint sound coming from the kitchen; when he rounded the corner, he was greeted by the sight of Harry, who was sitting on the floor with a knife and hyperventilating. Fuck.  
  
"Harry? Hey. It's me. What's going on?" Campbell tried to sound soothing, but it didn't seem to be working. He made his voice a little sharper. "Harry."  
  
That, Harry reacted to. He snapped his head up, eyes wide. "I heard a bang."  
  
"It was a car. You're okay."  
  
"A car?"  
  
"Yeah. Backfire."  
  
"Oh." Harry sucked in a breath and let out a shuddering sigh. He set the knife on the floor and stood, wrapping his arms around himself. "You were gone. You've been gone all day. I came out to look for you, and then I heard that. I thought..."  
  
Campbell shook his head. "I'm fine. I just needed to sort my brain out."  
  
"How could I know that?"  
  
"Text me?"  
  
"I did. You didn't answer."  
  
"I've kept my phone on vibrate since that shit went down at the cafeteria, just in case. I must have missed it. I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to make you worry."  
  
Harry was a little unsteady, but he wobbled over to Campbell and threw his arms around his neck. Campbell almost complained, but then Harry's lips were brushing against his ear. "You could have been hurt that day," he said, voice low and husky. "Or worse. I've been scared fucking shitless since. If I lose you, I don't know what I'll do."  
  
"I'm fine. Takes more than some jackoff with a peashooter to bring me down."  
  
"Stop it. Just, stop. Stop making everything a joke."  
  
"Harry, really. I'm fi--"  
  
His words were cut off as Harry took Campbell's face between his hands and pressed their lips together in a hard, fast kiss. It was over before Campbell could even realize what was happening; Harry stumbled back, covering his mouth and shame in his eyes. They didn't speak. Harry just hurried back to his room, shutting the door behind him. Campbell stood there, touching his lips with his fingers. His heart fluttered and fuck, fuck, fuck. Elle. What was he going tell her? She needed to know. Didn't she?  
  
But what could he tell her? He couldn't out Harry. Campbell moved into the kitchen and picked up the knife, putting it into the dishwasher and slamming the door shut. Goddamn it. He hunched over the sink and tried not to feel sick. He was used to anger, and by now he had adjusted to the reality of grief, but this was something else. Not direct at Harry, but at himself. Enough to make him nauseous, even though it was distant and numb. Some sour, terrible thing.  
  
_Fear. _  
  
But then the door clicked open and shut as Elle came home from her work shift at the cafeteria. Meal prep, again. She yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a reused water bottle from the fridge. "Hey. It's almost dinner time. Ready to go?"  
  
"I..." Campbell ran his tongue across his lips, swallowing hard and forcing a smile. "Yeah. I'm ready to go when you are. Just gotta run to the bathroom."  
  
"Alright. I'll go get Harry, then."  
  
Campbell nodded and make a hasty exit. For a good five minutes he argued with himself about taking one of the pills in the cabinet. It would be so much easier to just feel nothing, but what good would that do, in the end? He was already fucked up enough without making matter worse. By the time he came back out, they were waiting for him on the porch, talking and laughing like they were actually friends. And maybe they were, but that only complicated matters.  
  
With Harry grinning like that and joking around, it was easy to forget what had happened; it was easy to forget how much was going on underneath that charming smile. Still, Campbell knew those mannerisms and knew that heart, and he knew when Harry glanced at him that Harry was scared, too. He'd fucked up. They'd fucked up. At least there was something to talk about, to keep Elle distracted.  
  
"So," she said as he took Campbell's hand. "I talked to a few people about an idea I had."  
  
"Yeah? What about?"  
  
"I thought maybe it'd be nice to have a movie night once a week. You know, get people out of the house. Something nice to look forward to."  
  
Campbell gave her hand a little kiss. The idea of being stuck in a room with a bunch of people, in the dark, made him want to gag but there was a hopeful little glimmer in Elle's eyes that he refused to squash. "It's a great idea."  
  
"Would you go with me?"  
  
"Sure. Yeah, of course."  
  
She seemed happy, and that was all he wanted. Things had been so off between them since Cassandra's death; maybe she'd finally tuned out the assholes who'd been accusing him of being involved. Not that it'd matter, if she found out about Harry kissing him and left. If she didn't leave, of course Harry would have to. The miserable look on Harry's face that night during work said that Harry knew that, too.  
  
"Are we gonna talk about it?" Campbell asked when they were alone, scrubbing the floors of the cafeteria. "At all?"  
  
"Do I really have a choice?"  
  
"No."  
  
Harry sighed, shoving the mop back into the bucket. "So then tell her, okay? I'm sick of pretending like I don't have these feelings. Maybe it's easy for you, but it's not for me."  
  
"You think this is easy for me?"  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
"Oh, right. Campbell Eliot, the first known man to exist without a heart. How could I have forgotten?"  
  
"That's not what I--"  
  
Tossing down the ice scraper he was using to pop gum off from under the tables, Campbell stood and turned to face Harry. "This has never been easy for me. My family thought I was a monster. I've been in love with you the whole time I've known you, and had to watch you go and fuck damn near everyone in town, including the cousin who hates me. The one person who really understood me is dead, and now the only person I've ever loved who actually seemed to like me back gives me weird looks because people told her I'm a murderer. But sure, Harry. Sure, this is easy for me."  
  
"I'll leave," Harry said after a long moment. "I'll go back to my house."  
  
"No, you won't. I know there are people in this town who are struggling, and I know you're one of them. That shithole is going to end up killing you. I'm not letting you go back. We're gonna shut the fuck up and deal with this like grown ups."  
  
"We're not grown up, Campbell. Not really."  
  
"Then we're gonna have to fucking pretend."  
  
Campbell pick up the scraper and went back to work, venting his frustration out on the cafeteria tables. Harry was right about one thing. They were 18. Some of the teens in town were just barely 16. They were all trying to be adults, when they shouldn't have had to try so hard yet. People like Will had been trying for a lot longer, Campbell knew. But now, now it was everyone, and many of them were flailing in the uncharted waters. It was only a matter of time before some of them went under. Campbell refused for one of them to be Harry.  
  
But that didn't mean Campbell knew what to do next.  
  
They walked home in silence, but Harry stopped a block away, staring at the house. "Are you going to tell her?"  
  
"I'm not going to lie. Not to Elle."  
  
"It doesn't matter what you want, you know. She's going to make me leave. Even if she never says the words, she's going to find a way to push me out."  
  
"That's more something I'd do."  
  
"I know, Campbell. I know." Harry's eyes were almost black as he gazed at Campbell, a circle of golden lamplight burning around them. "Isn't that why you chose her?"  
  
Campbell didn't answer. He kept walking. Elle slept in his bed again that night; he kept trying to find the right point to say something, to bring it up, but there wasn't one. She was so excited about movie night that he couldn't bear to ruin her mood. And anyways, maybe it would be best to take a day to think about how to say it.  
  
Except one day turned into two, and two turned into three. They went to work and came home like everything was normal. Harry looked like he was waiting for an axe to come down on his neck. From what Campbell heard, most people turned over their guns within that time frame-- the ones they admitted they had. It didn't stop people from being on edge. The rumors of who killed Cassandra just kept getting worse and worse, and full conversations would often stop when Campbell walked by. Grizz didn't seem to mind; he kept up his end of the bargain, agreeing to meet Campbell at the old library a couple days a week.  
  
"Why do you think you have an anger issues?" Grizz wondered as they settled in the back. "I've heard a lot of things from a lot of people, but..."  
  
Campbell shrugged. "I was born wrong, I guess."  
  
"You believe that?"  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
Grizz drummed his fingers on the faded leather of the chair. "You know, when I was tiny, I didn't talk for a long time. I wasn't like other little kids. I hated being touched, I hated playing with others. My parents thought there was something wrong with me."  
  
Tilting his head, Campbell faintly recalled something he'd read during his online research. "Autism?"  
  
"Yeah." Grizz smiled a little. "But I don't feel like I was born wrong because of it, even if my family kinda made me feel that way."  
  
"Explains a lot of the nerdiness. I always thought that was cool."  
  
"It comes in handy sometimes. So what about you?"  
  
"Me? I've..." Campbell felt the words stick in his throat. "Does it matter?"  
  
"It could help, if you know. I won't pry it out of you, though."  
  
"All that's important here is that I lash out a lot. When I was a kid, I'd get upset and punch things, break things. Get hurt that way sometimes. I used to beat up jerks in school. I'd do drugs and drink. I mostly stopped but since Cassandra, I guess I've just lost it."  
  
"Right, well. That'd do it. Did your parents try to help you at all?"  
  
"Not really. My parents took me to some psych once, but then they pretended I was fine after that. They were good to Sam but I was the unruly pet. If I didn't behave they'd just swat me and yell at me to go to my room."  
  
"Wait." Grizz sat up straighter. "They hit you?"  
  
"It's whatever."  
  
Grizz shook his his. "Maybe that's what you've told yourself, but it's really not whatever. Even spanking and stuff can really fuck up how someone thinks. There's never an excuse to hit a kid, you know?"  
  
"I guess not, but they just got sick of my shit."  
  
"So? You didn't ask to be born. They're the ones who are supposed to teach you how to behave." There was a simmering anger in Grizz's tone, and Campbell shifted uncomfortably in his chair. No one had ever really expressed anger on his behalf before, not even Cassandra. It was just how life was for their family. "It just teaches kids to solve things through violence."  
  
"It must, because fuck knows that's how I solve things a lot of the time."  
  
"Right. Why did you lash out, though? If you don't want to hurt people, why do you?"  
  
Campbell frowned. "It's the only way people will listen, or leave me alone. I mean, I try not to do that much anymore, but sometimes I still end up yelling or punching walls and shit. I guess it still feels like people just don't care unless I make a scene."  
  
"That sounds like a stressful way to live."  
  
"It's why I'm here. I know it scares Elle, and I don't want to do that."  
  
"Of course not. Most people who have anger issues don't want to hurt the people around them, you know? I used to get really overwhelmed, and I'd get mean, too. It's because I just didn't have the right tools to figure out another way."  
  
"Tools?"  
  
"Yeah. Ways to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed, ways to communicate your needs effectively, ways to get the anger out without resorting to physical violence. That's what my middle school counselor told me."  
  
Campbell snorted. "Is that where you're getting your psychology information? Some middle aged guy named Greg with a french bulldog?"  
  
"Steve, actually, and it was a boston terrier."  
  
"Awesome."  
  
"But it makes sense, right?"  
  
"I guess. I don't really know how to communicate things sometimes, but I could always try harder. What do you do when you don't know what you're even feeling?"  
  
Grizz fiddled with a nearby book, running his fingers along the spine. "This would be a little easier if you told me what's going on, you know. If I knew what we were dealing with."  
  
"Can you still help me?"  
  
"If you're willing to let me."  
  
On one hand, the idea of someone who wasn't Cassandra dissecting his brain and telling him how he should behave chaffed at him, but isn't that what he needed, in a way? So Campbell nodded, and they got to work. They spent the better part of an hour going over materials Grizz's counselor had printed off; most of it seemed a little cheesy, but a few things struck a chord. How to detangle why he felt the need to yell or throw things, and figuring out how to address that root problem. Logically, he already knew the deep down issue, but it would be worth looking at directly rather than acknowledging it and then burying it again. Still, everything was about emotions, emotions, emotions. His were locked behind a few sheets of lead, a moat of alligators, and a barbed wire fence.  
  
"Do you mind if I hang onto these?" Campbell asked. It wasn't something he was going to figure out in a night. "I should get going, but I'd like to read over them later."  
  
"Yeah, go ahead."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Grizz watched Campbell pack up, and walked with him to the library door. "Hey, Campbell? Can I say something?"  
  
"You already are."  
  
"Yeah, but..." Grizz trailed off. "I know you said you're doing this for Elle. But I think that sometimes, in order to really have a healthy relationship with someone else, you kind of have to start having a healthy relationship with yourself. So maybe do this for your own sake, too, yeah?"  
  
"You sound like Cassandra."  
  
"I'll take that as a pretty awesome compliment."  
  
"It was." Campbell was about to leave when he paused and glanced back at Grizz, eyeing him a bit. "By the way, my brother's into you, too. Go for it."  
  
"Really? I mean, I don't... what?"  
  
"You almost peed yourself in the car during Fugitive when I asked if you liked anyone. You'd only do that if you thought I'd be mad, and I'd only get mad about Sam or Elle. It wasn't Elle, so it must be Sam. Plus you two were being all awkward at Allie's house."  
  
"So... you're not mad?"  
  
"Nah, I'm not mad. Break his heart and I'll break your kneecap, though, Football Boy."  
  
Grizz blushed bright red and looked at the ground. "Yeah, I get it. See you in a few days."  
  
"See you."  
  
His good deed for the year was done; Sam could thank him later. Campbell strolled home a little slower than usual, giving himself time to think the meeting over. He didn't feel too different. Not that it was going to be some magical cure or anything, but he still felt... off. Wrong. There was, however, a part of him that felt a little lighter. Not better, but less smothered. Maybe it was worth it, after all. Hell. Maybe it would be possible to be honest with Grizz; he'd never told anyone besides Cassandra about his condition, not even Harry, but maybe Grizz would understand.  
  
And hopefully, that would be a step towards telling Elle.  
  
Elle was getting dressed when he got home; it was Saturday, one of the town's two days off and the designated movie night, and Elle was dressing a little glamorous. "Ready to go?" she asked as he come into the room. "Everyone voted on The Princess Bride."  
  
"I don't know. I feel a little underdressed next to you."  
  
She ducked her head and smiled. "Do you think it's too much?"  
  
"Not at all, beautiful. Here." Campbell set down his papers and helped Elle with the clasp of her necklace. He placed a little kiss to the nape of her neck before letting her hair back down. "Let me go change my shirt real fast."  
  
"How about that soft black one?"  
  
"As you wish."  
  
It was the least he could do to look less frumpy. Elle peered at his papers while he rummaged through his clothes. She didn't say anything, but she did give him a bit of curious look at the left the house. Maybe it would have been good to talk about it, but he was busy trying to amp himself up to even go to the movie. The only reason he was going was for Elle. Not that he hated the movie, but he still hadn't gotten over the idea of being around everyone else. It wasn't so bad on the way over, but once they got close, Campbell felt his heart start to race.  
  
"What's wrong?" Elle asked as he ground to a halt outside the doors. "You look like you're gonna be sick."  
  
"Maybe you should go on without me. I think I should just go home."  
  
"Is it because there's too many people?" Bingo. Campbell tried to find the right words, but Elle leaned up and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "If anyone says anything, I'll break their nose. Okay? Besides, Harry saved us the best seats."  
  
It didn't really help anything, but Campbell nodded and forced himself to go in. No one said anything, but they still shot him dirty looks. He bolted to where Harry was sitting, sinking into one of the chair as far as he could. Elle brought them popcorn and cans of soda. As the lights clicked off, Campbell felt some of his anxiety ease, though another thought began to nag at him halfway through the movie.  
  
What if the killer was in the room with them? What if they still had a gun? What if they never found the killer? They would just be walking free among everyone, and who knows if-- when-- they'd kill again.  
  
Thankfully the movie came to an end soon enough, and Campbell tried to escape. Not so thankfully, Elle was hanging behind and talking to Clark and some of the other folks. "I promised to stay behind and clean up," Elle said when Campbell tried to prod at her. "Why don;'t you go home and I'll catch up in a little bit?"  
  
Of course it wasn't okay, but he couldn't say it wasn't, because he was supposed to be supportive. "Yeah, yeah." He tried not to imagine Elle on the ground, covered in blood. "Sure. I'll see you soon."  
  
Harry, who had watched the exchange, pulled him aside before he made it out the door. "Do you want me to stay here with her? Keep an eye out?"  
  
"Would you?"  
  
"I wouldn't offer otherwise."  
  
Campbell wanted to say no, because like hell he wanted them anywhere near each other at the moment, but he nodded. "Thanks."  
  
Harry gave him a pat on the back, and Campbell took off at a brisk pace. He just needed to be away, in the quiet, alone. Just long enough to rest and recharge his batteries. Campbell hated that he had to walk by the street where Cassandra was killed, but it was the fastest way home; he was almost by it when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A flash of light fabric. Campbell stopped and looked, but there was nothing and no one there. Not even that dog, the collie he hadn't seen or heard since that night.  
  
Whatever.  
  
Campbell walked quicker, locking the door behind him when he got home. He set to tidying up the house, trying to ignore the time. They'd be home when they were home, he told himself. That attitude changed after thirty minutes had gone by, and then forty-five. He texted them both, but there was no answer from either. Campbell made some tea and went upstairs to his bed, breathing slow and reminding himself that sometimes time got away with people.  
  
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Elle pranced up the stairs and kicked off her shoes. "Sorry we're late. We wanted to finish off the popcorn so it wouldn't go to waste, and suddenly it's way past curfew."  
  
"It's okay. I was just worried." Even to himself, his voice was tight. Aggravated. Campbell closed his eyes a moment and forced the irritation to the side. He followed her to the bathroom, bringing Elle her pajamas as she drew a bath. "Did you have fun?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so. I've never really talked to anyone that much before. Are you doing okay?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Are you sure? I just thought--"  
  
"Can we not talk about it right now?" Campbell interrupted. "It's just been a long night, and I don't want your water getting cold."  
  
"Oh. No, of course."  
  
Hopefully by the time Elle came back out, she'd have forgotten the whole thing and they could just pretend like it was a happy, fun night with no drama whatsoever. And, Campbell could admit, for the most part that was true. Most of the bad parts were entirely within his own head. Nothing bad had happened. Elle and Harry both returned safely. It was the thought of what could have happened that haunted him, and the fact that they hadn't come home when he'd expected. Combined with everything else, though, and it was a sickening cocktail of worry.  
  
Elle wandered in a bit later, arms crossed over her chest as she hovered in the doorway. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. I know things have been tense, but I thought this would be good for us."  
  
"No, no, it is good for us." Closing the space between them, Campbell ran his hands lightly down Elle's arms. "I promised I'd keep you safe, you know? And it's just hard to do that when there's still some armed killer out there, and I can't keep my eyes on you. When you're at work, when I'm at work, nights like this. It freaks me the fuck out and I hate being freaked out. It's not your fault."  
  
There was a small flare of doubt in Elle's eyes, but then she wrapped her arms around Campbell and rested her head on his chest. "I just want everything to be okay again."  
  
"Me too, sweetheart. Me too."  
  
And that, at least, was the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

The night was filled with a restless sleep.  
  
Campbell and Cassandra had once spoken about fear, and Campbell had admitted that it wasn't really something he'd ever felt in the way others seemed to. He understood social anxiety. A vague, foreboding sense that something was wrong or would go wrong, that people were staring at him and judging him. And, well, it wasn't an unfounded concern. People often did. Campbell hated the feeling and wanted to avoid it. But this? It sat in his chest, that same sick sensation, and it wouldn't budge.   
  
He tossed and turned, images racing through his head. Sam, dead. Elle, dead. Harry, dead. All because he couldn't protect them from some some bastard with a gun. Him alone again because everyone got sick of him, and left. He'd always thought he'd be fine alone, but Campbell realized now that he'd never really been alone. Cassandra, Harry, Sam, Elle. At some point or another, he'd always had them at his back. The one time he felt truly alone, it had been the worst moment of his life... until now.   
  
What would happen to him if he had no one at all?   
  
"Campbell?"  
  
It was early morning, all too soon, and he'd barely slept at all. Elle's voice pulled him out of his shallow dozing. Campbell blinked awake and sat up; the world was swimming and he had a headache. "Hmn?"  
  
"Sam's downstairs. He's really upset."  
  
"What?" Campbell swung out of bed and threw on clothes, taking the stairs two at a time. Sam was in the living room, sitting on the sofa and curled up on himself, crying. Campbell put his hand on Sam's shoulder, frowning when Sam jumped. "What the hell is going on?"  
  
Sam wiped his face on his arm, signing without speaking. He was signing fast. Halting. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I know I shouldn't have, but--"  
  
"Wait, wait. Didn't mean to what?"  
  
"When Gordie was looking at the guns, I said we couldn't have one in the house."  
  
"So what? They know I was suicidal?"  
  
"Gordie brought it up with Allie, and they confronted me." Sam couldn't even look him in the eyes. No. No, it wasn't just about the guns. "I told them about you. About what you have."  
  
Campbell felt his blood go cold. So, this was how it happened. "And?"  
  
"They were scared."  
  
"What else did you say?"  
  
"I told them that you didn't do it. I tried to explain that it wasn't like how people thought. They thought maybe you killed Cassandra, and I was trying to tell them that you wouldn't have. I don't know if they listened."  
  
Turning his back to Sam, Campbell pressed his face into his hands. "Fuck. Fuck, goddamn it, shit, damn, fuck." He took a deep breath and turned back to Sam. "Who all knows?"  
  
"Allie. Gordie. Will. Grizz. Bean. Becca."  
  
Six people. Six people, and half of them hated him. Allie, Will, and Becca wouldn't just let it go; Bean had never explicitly treated him like trash, and Grizz seemed friendly, but Gordie had always had a crush on Cassandra. Gordie was in charge of the investigation into her death, and there was no way he'd just ignore the idea of Campbell as a suspect. On top of that, Will was friendly with Kelly, who also hated Campbell... and was friends with damn near everyone.  
  
As much as Campbell disliked Allie, he didn't suspect that Allie would spread that kind of information. Will? Maybe. Kelly? Oh, she would, just to see Campbell be ripped apart by the public. Granted, most of them probably already though Campbell was a psychopath, but Sam unwillingly gave that group ammunition to try and solidify that idea. All of Campbell's work throughout the years to try and stay out of the worst kinds of trouble, and all it was going to take was one bullshit story his parents had told Sam to ruin it all.  
  
It was tempting to find the nearest breakable thing and hurl it, but Campbell tried the bullshit breathing exercise from the papers Grizz gave him. It was enough to keep him from putting something through the window, but Sam needed to leave. Campbell could step back mentally and see that Sam hadn't wanted to tell, and well, Sam had come over to apologize-- and to warn Campbell. Still. Seeing Sam there was making his anger bubble up, and Campbell didn't want it to spill over.   
  
"Please go."  
  
Sam nodded, shuffling towards the door. Campbell walked him out. Sam hesitated on the porch, looking to Campbell with a lost sort of expression; for a second, it was like they were both little kids again and Sam knew he'd upset Campbell but just wanted to make things better, without knowing how. Campbell wanted to slam the door in his face, but instead he pushed the snappish, snarling feeling back and gave Sam a hug. Sam stiffened in surprise, but then hugged back.   
  
"What was that for?" Sam asked when they pulled away. "Why?"  
  
_Because we're brothers, and I don't want to lose you, too. Because I'm tired of hating you. Because I'm sick of being angry all the time. _A dozen different answers, but Campbell just shrugged. That seemed like a good enough explanation for Sam, who nodded and-- thankfully-- left. Without anyone watching, Campbell wanted to kick the bench on the porch to vent his anger, but stopped at the last minute and just let out a long, heavy sigh instead. Kicking shit wouldn't make the problem go away.  
  
Elle was waiting when Campbell came back inside. "What was that about?"  
  
Where to even begin? Campbell knew it would only be a matter of time before someone told her, but he couldn't have the conversation right then. Not without falling apart. "If anyone tries to talk to you, could you just... could you just walk away?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"That secret I told you about? When we first started dating? Sam knew, and he told everyone at Allie's house. I don't know who they'll tell."  
  
"Yeah, I remember." Elle followed him into the kitchen, leaning her cheek on his shoulder as he got a glass of water. "You said you'd tell me after three dates."  
  
"Right. I know, and I want to. But I just imagined this going differently. I wanted it to be on my own time, not rushed because I'm worried some prick is going to say things that aren't true."  
  
"I get that, but don't you trust me?"  
  
Campbell set the glass down a little too hard. "I don't trust _anyone _anymore." The words came out harsh, and the look Elle gave him was stricken. "Elle, come on. I didn't meant it like that."  
  
"It's okay. I get it. I just... I'm going to be late for work, so I should go." She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "If anyone tries to talk to me about it, I won't listen to them. Don't worry."  
  
He should have gone after her, but he let her walk out the door. Maybe it would be better to give her a little time to cool down. Campbell cursed himself. Why didn't he just tell her? Why did he say that he didn't trust her? Of course he did. Didn't he? He had no reason not to trust her. Campbell sat on a kitchen stool and burrowed his face into his arms. A nightmare. It was a fucking nightmare, it had to be.  
  
Soft footsteps on the tile floor. Harry's voice rose up behind him. "Trouble in paradise?"  
  
"It had nothing to do with you, okay?" Campbell snapped. He sighed and raised his head; he shouldn't make things worse by being a jackass to Harry, who was looking at him with a little worried puppy sort of expression. "Sam spilled his fucking guts to people about me."  
  
"About you?" Harry wondered. "Or about _us_?"  
  
Campbell reached out and stroked Harry's cheek. "Don't worry about that, princess, that's our little secret." He smirked when Harry scowled and dodged the touch, but the smirk quickly faded. "No. That I'm... I've got shit wrong with me. I didn't want it getting out, not like this."  
  
"What kind of shit?"  
  
"The mental kind of shit."  
  
"Ah." Harry sat down on the stool next to Campbell, tracing the grout of the counter with a finger. "Antisocial Personality Disorder."  
  
It felt like someone had physically punched Campbell in the stomach, the air left his lungs so suddenly. "What? You know?"  
  
"I've known. Cassandra did a report on it in school."  
  
"And you just, what, figured it out?"  
  
Resting his chin on a hand, Harry turned and fixed Campbell with that terrible, beautiful, smarter-than-you-think gaze. "After a little bit, yeah. Besides Cassandra, I've always known you better than anyone else. You seem to forget that."  
  
"So, what now? You gonna walk out, too?" Campbell asked, ignoring the sour taste rising in the back of his throat. Ignoring the way that look made him feel. "Because I'm some kind of freak?"  
  
"No. I'm gonna help you clean up this mess."  
  
A surprising answer, but Campbell wasn't going to turn the offer down. Harry stole his phone, sending a quick text to Elle while Campbell watched over his shoulder. _Hey, what time do you get off work? Can you come right home? I have a special lunch for you._  
  
"I do?"  
  
"You will."  
  
Elle texted back a moment later. _Okay, I'll be home in an hour._  
  
Harry handed back the phone. "Perfect. Look, man, if there's anything I'm good at it's figuring out how to apologize in style. So does Elle like romantic gestures? Is she more practical?"  
  
"Well, a bit of both, I think. She likes cute movies and when I do something nice for her, but she's realistic. Balanced."  
  
"Alright. So, here's the plan..."  
  
Together, they managed to clean up the back porch, sweeping away dust and cobwebs. Campbell set out a comfortable blanket, and a few citronella tea candles. His parents had a picnic basket that he always thought was cheesy, but now Campbell wondered if the whole romantic summertime lunch thing had something to it, after all. He'd never been on one, and it's not like people talked to him about them, but luckily Harry knew what the hell to do.  
  
Harry, perching on the counter, peered down at Campbell. "Okay. We have everything put together outside. What are Elle's favorite foods?"  
  
"Uh." Campbell combed over his memories. "Fruit. She liked bagels with strawberry cream cheese. Breakfast foods. Salads."  
  
"Okay. So what do we have?"  
  
Campbell dug into the foods they had saved, and after an hour, he'd managed to throw together a passable meal. He carefully minced whatever scraps of fresh veggies they had left, tossing them with a vinegar and oil dressing, before toasting some bread and making chicken and bacon sandwiches. There was some frozen fruit, so he thawed them while he made everything else, and then mixed them together with some marshmallow fluff for an on-the-fly ambrosia salad. He filled a pitcher with water and some sugar, and steeped some tea while he went upstairs and took a quick shower. By the time he brushed and preened and got back downstairs, he had fifteen minutes left until Elle was home.   
  
Harry was washing the dishes, giving Campbell a wavering little smile as he came back into the kitchen. "You clean up nicely."  
  
"Like you don't?" Campbell leaned against the counter. "Before I thank you, I just gotta ask. Why? First you agree to help watch out for Elle, now this."  
  
"Because I want you to be happy."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah. Even if it's not with me."  
  
"Harry."  
  
But there was no time to talk. The lock of the front door clicked open, and Harry dashed into his room just as Elle turned the corner. She looked at the basket and the tea, puzzled. "What's this?"  
  
"A picnic. Interested?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Not exactly the most enthusiastic response, but good enough. Campbell packed the food into the basket while Elle took the tea outside. Campbell lit the candles, more for keeping away wasps and mosquitoes than ambiance. Once they were comfy and Campbell had started to plate up the food, he decided to risk talking. "I wanted to apologize. Again. I know I upset you this morning."  
  
"Is this to make up for that?"  
  
"I was hoping it would."  
  
Elle accepted a plate of food, sniffing lightly at the vegetables. "This does look good." She nibbled at it. Making a pleased little hum, Elle gazed across the food at Campbell. "Do you really not trust me?"  
  
"It's not like that. I love you, but I didn't want to say anything until I got my temper under control. I felt like maybe then, I'd be able to prove I'm not a bad person."  
  
"But Cassandra knew. Sam knew."  
  
"Because Cassandra was like me, and my parents told Sam."   
  
"No one else knew?"  
  
"No." There was no need to bring Harry into the equation. "I want to tell you. I just wanted it to be on my terms, when I was ready."  
  
"And now?"  
  
"Well, there's no point in hiding it now, right?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
Campbell knew there was no point in hiding it anymore. It was going to get out one way or another; that's how things always went. For all he knew, someone could have said something to her already, and she was just giving him the chance to explain his side of it. "I was diagnosed with conduct disorder when I was younger. I was a very angry kid."  
  
"That doesn't sound very scary."  
  
"It can be. Some kids are super violent and hurt animals, or people around them. Some kids with it get into crime, or do risky shit. I got into drugs and stuff because I just wanted to numb everything that was upsetting me. Sometimes, they have lower empathy and remorse and stuff."  
  
Elle frowned. "Isn't that like being a psychop--"  
  
"No," Campbell said, cutting her off before the word was even out of her mouth. Elle raised her eyebrows. "Sorry, I've just heard that a lot. No, it's called Antisocial Personality Disorder. It's basically some wiring off in the brain. Sometimes they go together, but it's still rare."  
  
"Okay. But you can't feel guilt or anything?"  
  
"It depends. For me, I usually don't feel it unless I do something to hurt someone close to me. But I still can. It's just selective."  
  
"And everything else? Sadness? Happiness?"  
  
"It's like having earphones in, you know? You can kinda hear stuff around you, but it's muffled. It's got a scary reputation, but a lot of people have more mild cases. Anger issues, trouble controlling impulses, substance abuse."  
  
"Should I be worried?"  
  
"Do you think you should be?" When Elle didn't answer, Campbell pursed his lips. So, even if he did trust Elle, it wouldn't matter. He'd wrecked her trust in him already. "I know sometimes I've said and done things that weren't okay. I still meant what I said from the start. I want to protect you. I would never hurt you."  
  
Opening her mouth, Elle started to say something, but then closed her mouth again and focused on her food. "Is that why you've been talking to Grizz? You're trying to figure stuff out?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm trying to get better."  
  
"Are you going to keep seeing him?"  
  
"If he doesn't shun me."  
  
"That's good." Elle seemed to ponder over their discussion for a good, long while, before relaxing. "I guess I can see why you didn't want to tell me. I'm glad you did, though."  
  
Not that he'd told her everything. Campbell had left out the part about Oliver, and the part about how he'd been suicidal so they'd taken all the weapons from the house. He didn't tell her about the falling out between him and Sam, or, well, anything else. Elle barely spoke to anyone, and he told her the important things. What else was _needed_? She seemed content with what Campbell had shared, and she was digging in on the fruit salad like all was right in the world.  
  
Was that officially a save? With any luck.  
  
The rest of the night was quiet. Campbell went to work, and no one said a word, though that was likely more to do with the fact that he wasn't working with anyone Sam had told. He went home that night a little hopeful, knowing he'd have to confront Grizz, if no one else. But for the night, he could rest and pretend like nothing was wrong.   
  
Elle joined him in the bedroom as he started to settle down, embracing him from behind and kissing his shoulder. "I don't like it when we argue," she murmured. "Can we just forget about it?"  
  
"If that's what you want." Campbell turned and kissed Elle on the temple, surprised when she turned her head and kissed him along his neck. "Hey, what's going on?"  
  
"It's just been so stressful lately. Maybe we should unwind."  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this, though?"  
  
"Don't you?"  
  
Campbell hesitated. Ignoring what he wanted, he'd been sure Elle hadn't felt ready. Had things changed that much since prom? Had he not been paying attention? Maybe it was some sort of comfort thing, or a make-up after a fight thing, or something. Regardless, she was leading him to the bed, and he followed. "Yeah, of course."  
  
It was strange, watching her take off her clothes and taking off his own, knowing it was different this time. Campbell dimmed the lights as they climbed into bed. He'd always found Elle attractive, but there was some tense air in the room when it sunk in what was happening; he went in to kiss her to make it less awkward, but they accidentally bumped noses. They both laughed, and Elle kissed him properly. No collision involved.   
  
Whatever weird nerves he'd been feeling, they were soon forgotten as he explored Elle's body. Is this okay? Do you like that? Does this feel good? It was difficult to be anxious when he was busy touching her and kissing her and pulling cute little whimpery noises from her, if only because he was focused on her expression and the pitch of her voice.   
  
Campbell had no idea how long it had been before Elle squirmed, reaching down and pushing his hand away. "Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?"  
  
"No," Elle huffed. "I just don't want it to be over before we actually do it."  
  
Smiling, Campbell kissed her on the lips as she laid back and tugged him on top of her. He'd had the forethought a while back to keep some supplies in his nightstand, just in case, and Campbell reached quickly for a condom and the lube before he could think about it too much. They were an odd tangle of arms and legs, but Elle managed to grab the condom and slide it on when his hands were too shaky to figure it out. It wasn't like he'd ever had to, before, but thank whatever powers existed that Elle seemed to know what she was doing.  
  
"Uhm..." Campbell paused as Elle started getting comfy on the bed. "I'd rather you be on top."  
  
Elle's eye lit up. Grinning, she flipped Campbell over on his back and straddled his waist. He wanted her to have control, and she seemed happy to take it, kissing him hard on the lips; nothing but drugs and booze had ever managed to completely halt his tendency to overthink, but the moment he was inside her, Campbell felt his mind go still. Fuck, maybe Elle was a new kind of drug, all on her own.  
  
She bit his lip, and he dragged his nails down her back. She rocked her hips against him, and he tangled one hand in her hair, steadying her and smiling as began to moan. Campbell slipped his free hand between them, hoping to make sure not to leave Elle disappointed; with a little whispered guidance from Elle, it had just the desired effect. Her squirming was delicious, and god, he wanted that one little moment to go on forever.   
  
But then Elle let out a little cry, her nails digging into his shoulders. His fingertips curled into her waist as she tightened around him; that pushed him over the edge, and after a few moments, they both lay there in a sweaty, sticky mess. For a long while, they stayed there, trading kisses and stroking each other's hair. After Campbell regained the use of his limbs, he went into the bathroom and got a cool, damp towel to help Elle clean up. He took care of himself after, while she ducked into the bathroom herself.   
  
When she came back in, Elle sunk down next to him. Campbell nuzzled her hand. "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"  
  
Elle shook her head. "Mmno, I'm very, very okay." She let out a tired breath of air as she gestured at the bedsheets. "Maybe we could sleep in my bed tonight, though."  
  
They slinked into the other bedroom and tucked in to the much drier bedding, with Elle curled against Campbell's chest. Sleep rolled over them soon after, and it was almost noon by the time they both woke up. Campbell woke first. He stretched as Elle yawned and woke up a second later, groaning and pulling the covers over her face to block out the sun coming through the windows.  
  
Campbell peeked under the covers at Elle. "Tired?"  
  
"Mmhm. Exhausted."  
  
"Why don't you call in sick? I'll take your shift."  
  
"Are you sure?" Elle sat up, her hair sticking out every which way like some cute, ruffled bird. "You don't have to do that."  
  
"Yeah. It'll give you time to get some rest, have a spa day."  
  
"That does sound nice. I mean, if you're sure."  
  
"I'm _very _sure."  
  
The pickings were getting slim downstairs in the kitchen, but Campbell still managed to throw together some sort of brunch, bringing it up to Elle like he had when their relationship had first started. He got dressed as fast as possible, kissed Elle, and bolted out the door towards the cafeteria before he was late. The last thing he needed was to piss off Will, of all people.  
  
Will's eyes narrowed the second Campbell breezed in. "Where's Elle?"  
  
"Home sick. You get me instead."  
  
What could Will really say? Campbell had a lot of flaws, but he knew his way around a kitchen, and that's what mattered. Will, at least, wouldn't have to hover too much or repeat instructions. There were several times Will glanced over at him, but he didn't say anything. Lunch prep and serving went by smoothly and Campbell was able to grab his own lunch and escape Will's glares. Unfortunately, sitting in the cafeteria meant seeing damn near everyone else, too.  
  
One face, Campbell actually wanted to see. Grizz was sitting alone when Campbell sidled up. Grizz stared at him over a jello cup, but like Will, he kept his mouth shut. Campbell took his silence as permission to speak. "Hey, uh... I was hoping we could talk, even if you are looking at me like I'm a three headed snake right now."  
  
"Sure. Why wouldn't we talk?"  
  
"Because Sam told me what happened."  
  
Grizz turned his eyes back down to his lunch. "Oh. I mean, if you're worried about me saying anything, I'm not going to. I try not to gossip."  
  
"That's part of it, but I also just... you know, I don't have many friends. And I know we're not exactly that, but I guess I'd hoped that eventually we'd, uh. I don't know."  
  
"Be friends?"  
  
"Yeah, something like that."  
  
Stabbing a piece of rubbery carrot, Grizz shuffled his food around his plate and flicked the little pieces of onion out of the mixed veggies. "When Sam told us, I was scared. I still am, a little. But." He gave Campbell a quick glance. "I don't wanna judge you the same way people judged me."  
  
Well, that was something. "Are we cool, then? Friday at the library?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, we're cool. Just, you know. Don't be angry at Sam."  
  
"Don't worry about it."  
  
It's wasn't Sam who had earned Campbell's ire in all that. Sam had kept Campbell's secret-- or whatever he knew of it-- to himself all these years, without complaint or question. Campbell was done blaming Sam for other people's mistakes. No, he blame the people who had pushed Sam, and were going to take the new information and run with it. Well, they could think what they wanted. He hadn't done shit.  
  
The next few days were busy as schedules changed, and Campbell found himself stuck with garbage duty. Another shit job. That was just the roll of the dice, Campbell knew, but he heard whispers of Allie getting some sort of group together for figuring out the food situation-- something he'd brought up with Cassandra ages ago. Surely Cassandra had talked to Allie about it, so they must have been implementing the idea of digging up the lawns and using it for gardening space. But when he asked people about it, he was met with blank stares.  
  
What the hell?  
  
But whatever. Campbell could still go through with the idea on his own, with his own yard. Elle helped him sneak some seeds from the stores, and her own family had some from a while back. Tomatoes, squash, beans, corn, and a few others things. Campbell took a book from the library about gardening, and together they managed to get a head start on a decent garden.   
  
Elle used her wrist to wipe sweat from her forehead. "We can't plant everything now, because it's late in the season, but if we make it through the winter we'll have seeds to plant then."  
  
"We should start a compost pile, too," Harry mumbled as he paged through the book. "It'd be better than just tossing food scraps in the trash."  
  
Campbell and Elle were perched on the steps of the porch, leaning together and sharing a glass of cold lemonade. Elle tipped her big floppy sunhat back and pointed to a spot farther away from the house. "Maybe there? We don't wanna catch the house on fire if it gets too hot."  
  
"Good call."  
  
It was good to see Harry up and about, digging and hammering and getting in the dirt with them. At the end of the day they all flopped on the porch and watched the stars, and for a moment, Campbell felt like they-- all three of them-- were a family. Their days were spent working, tending their little plant children, and their nights? Well, Campbell found the nights a lot more interesting. And with everything quiet on the outside, with no one from Allie's pack coming after him, Campbell began to wonder if maybe he'd been worried over nothing.  
  
As with all things in life, however, with every ray of sunshine there's a storm.   
  
It had been a long work week following their days off. With it getting hotter and more humid as the summer went on, everything was getting drier; Campbell ended up helping some folks go trim up dead brush to lessen the chances of fires. Garbage was rotting faster than usual and it required more frequent removal. Insects like flies and mosquitoes were becoming a nuisance. And as far as nuisances were concerned, the heat was making everyone irritable; having to share a house with ten, twenty, thirty people was all well and good until that many bodies in one space made the place hotter and people began fighting over the coolest spots in the houses.   
  
He wouldn't have even known about it, had it not been for Grizz.  
  
"People are feeling like Hot Pockets in plastic wrap," Grizz complained as they lounged in the shade just outside the library. It was a little cooler than going inside. "I get conserving power, but damn."  
  
Campbell shrugged. "Have you tried using like, thicker curtains over windows and stuff? Keeping out sunlight will help."  
  
"Yeah, which works for houses okay, but Allie told them to turn it off in the cafeteria, so now the people in the kitchen have to use fans and stuff."  
  
It wasn't the last complaint Campbell heard. On their day off, Campbell went to Harry's house with Harry to check up on the state of things. It was awful. The place was a wreck, and Campbell could see the loss in Harry's eyes, but luckily he decided to just walk away and join a few so-called friends that were heading to the coffee shop. Campbell followed for moral support, but he wished he hadn't, in the end.   
  
"They took, like, all the guns," one of the jerks whined as he took a drag of weed.  
  
Another shook his head. "No fucking way."  
  
"Serious. They're, like, testing all the guns to see which one got fired."  
  
"Dude, they're swabbing everyone and they're building a massive DNA database to match it with what they found on her body."  
  
Campbell clenched his jaw and nursed a beer, focusing on the way the smoke curled and floated through the air. He turned them out as best as he could. Still, the words stuck in his head. DNA. DNA. Had there been DNA on her body? What kind? Had someone done more to her than just killed her? The thought made Campbell want to vomit. How would Gordie even know? Fuck, trained adults with computer databases couldn't even figure out a test kit most of the time, how were 16, 17, and 18 year olds with outdated books going to catch their criminal?  
  
Harry muttered something and headed towards the coffee machine. Greg, some scrawny brat who followed everyone around for the weed, joined him. Campbell finished his beer and stood to go over and get another, hidden in the fridge in the back, but then Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door.  
  
"Harry? What's going on?"  
  
"I need to see Kelly. I." Harry fiddled with the collar of his shirt, avoiding Campbell's gaze as he headed toward where his ex was living. "I found something of hers I need to give back."  
  
Campbell followed for a few steps. "In the coffee shop?"  
  
"No, at my house. I just, you know, forgot I had it with me until now."   
  
"Uh, right. Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I just haven't slept much."  
  
"Okay. Do you need me to come with?"  
  
"No. Go home, Campbell. Please? I'll be there soon."  
  
There was strain on that one little word. Please. Campbell stopped; Harry stopped, too, watching him. Campbell gave Harry a little mock bow, and headed towards home. What the hell had that been about? Did Harry just really need a booty call or whatever? But he'd not only pulled Campbell from the group, but made sure Campbell was heading towards home. He considered going back to see what had shaken Harry so badly. That would mean hanging out with those creeps, though, and maybe all for nothing.  
  
Well, let Harry have his secret, Campbell thought at he trudged home.   
  
It all had a way of coming out, in the end.


	5. Chapter 5

The door was open when Campbell arrived home.  
  
He rushed in, adrenaline surging through him for a split second as he imagined all sorts of terrible things, but then he heard Elle's voice coming from the kitchen. Calm. Happy, even. Campbell slowed down, rounding the corner with curiosity instead of that ready-to-fight reaction.   
  
Elle was sitting on the floor with the dog. Not just any dog, but that dog from the night Cassandra died. The dog looked at him with intense amber eyes as Elle ruffled his fur. "Let's get you all fixed up, okay?"  
  
"Hey," Campbell said as he came into the room. He tried to keep his tone casual, more for Elle's sake than the sake of the dog, but he couldn't help but stare back. "Who's this?"  
  
"Uhm, he's a stray. He showed up in our yard."  
  
"I've seen him around town."  
  
"Yeah, you mentioned hearing a dog that night, right?"  
  
"I did."  
  
Peeking up at him, Elle frowned. Campbell had tried hard to keep his expression blank, but either that had tipped her off, or he hadn't tried hard enough; she suddenly seemed nervous. "I don't think anybody's been looking after him. His paw is hurt. I was thinking, maybe..." She looked back at the dog. "I'm sorry, I know this is your house, and I should have asked before bringing him in."  
  
Campbell shook his head and went to the fridge to get some cold water. "No, it's okay. It's just strange he showed up here."  
  
"I can take him to someone else."  
  
"You don't have to do that, really." He knew how hard things had been on her lately, and that she still didn't have many people she was close to in town. The dog was just a dog, right? It's not like they were some omen of doom or anything. "Maybe it's good for you to have a friend around."  
  
"He seems like a really good dog. He's super sweet."  
  
"What are you gonna name him?"  
  
"He doesn't have a collar, but I mean, he kinda looks like a Charlie. Don't you think?" Elle leaned against Campbell as he came over and kissed her hair. "Is that silly?"  
  
"It's whatever you want. Hi, Charlie."  
  
He bent down and offered his hand to the dog. Charlie sniffed his fingers, then gave a tailwag. Campbell scritched the dog behind the ears, glancing at the dog's paw; it was bloodied, and definitely painful, like maybe another animal got a hold of it. Or, maybe, like Charlie had gotten tangled in something sharp. Poor thing.  
  
"Do you wanna be my dog?" Elle cooed at Charlie. "Let's get that paw fixed up."  
  
"Do you need help?"  
  
"Oh, maybe. I just wanted to wash him."  
  
The dog followed them upstairs and hopped into the tub, easy as pie. Campbell brought up the dishsoap and some towels; he'd have to go find Allie at dinner and see if she knew where they could get some pet supplies. Charlie held still while Elle washed him, and Campbell helped hold him still while Elle wrapped the dog's paw.   
  
"I've always wanted a dog," Elle sighed as she cooked some rice and frozen meat scraps to feed Charlie. The dog was laying at her feet. Cute. "Did you ever have any pets growing up?"  
  
Campbell winced at the memory of Oliver. "No. Sam had a bird, but I never had any pets of my own. Dogs are cool, though."  
  
"Mm. Looks like Charlie's being a good boy."  
  
"He is. I wonder where he came from, though. Cassandra told me everyone's pets were gone. It's kind of weird he's just... here."  
  
"Yeah, it is a little weird. Maybe someone will recognize him."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Doubtfully. Campbell had never seen the dog before they'd arrived at West Ham 2.0, and when Campbell woke in the middle of the night, Charlie had his front paws on the windowsill. He was staring out the window and into the night, his body and tail stiff. A soft, low growl issues from his throat. When Campbell got up and went to the window, there was no one outside. No one that Campbell could see. A cold feeling went up Campbell's spine, and he never quite got back to sleep.  
  
His phone pinged softly around seven, a few hours after dawn. Elle was already gone for work, and Charlie was laying across his leg, grumbling as Campbell wiggled free. Campbell read the text on his phone over and over before getting up and throwing on pants. He tripped down the stairs and went into Harry's room, prodding him awake. "You need to get dressed."  
  
"Hnngh? Why?"  
  
"They're holding a meeting at the church. Greg Dewey was arrested for Cassandra's murder." Campbell felt the world spin slightly as Harry's expression immediately fell in shame. "You knew."  
  
"Since yesterday."  
  
"How did you know? How did Allie find out?"  
  
"Because he told me. Bragged about it." Harry sunk into his blankets as Campbell began to curse. "I went and told Kelly. She told Allie and the others."  
  
"And you didn't think I deserved to know this?"  
  
"Cam, I was worried that if I told you, you'd have gone and killed him yourself. I wanted to go to someone less homicidal."  
  
It was the truth. That didn't mean Campbell wanted to hear it. "Goddamn it."  
  
"Hey." Harry slipped out of bed and lightly curled his arms around Campbell as Campbell began to pace. "Hey. I'll go with you, okay? We'll meet Elle there. It's going to be okay."  
  
They shouldn't have been that close, but Campbell held still, slowing his breathing; Harry's scent, day old Axe deodorant and coffee, sapped away all the poison pooling on Campbell's tongue. This wasn't some threat he needed to attack. This was Harry. Fucked up Harry, who loved Campbell and was struggling with his own shit. Campbell sighed and pulled away, going back to his room to get ready.  
  
A quick text to Elle confirmed that she got the news, too, and would save them a seat. By the time they got there, though, the church was packed. Elle was sitting next to Helena. She gave Campbell a helpless look; Helena was talking to her about something, but there was definitely no room left anywhere else for three people. They were lucky enough to find a spot where he and Harry could sit together. Campbell put a hand lightly on Harry's hip, directing him to the small open spot; he quickly yanked his hand back when Harry shot him a questioning glance. Right. Little shit like that could start rumors.  
  
Not that anyone was looking at them.  
  
Allie stood at the front of the church, her face shuttered and her body drawn in on itself. Once it seemed like everyone was seated, she cleared her throat. A silence fell over the church. "Hey, everyone. I just... I'll keep it brief. I just wanna give you an update on everything. Uhm, everything that's happened." She glanced around the church, shifting her weight. Nervous. "There was an arrest this morning. Greg Dewey. We're keeping him in an undisclosed location for now, until we can figure out what happened, and if there was anyone else involved."  
  
The gathered mass erupted into chatter. Allie left the church fast, before Campbell could even try to speak to her. Not taking any questions, then. It wasn't any wonder. Even on her way out, people were clamoring for more information. Gossipers. Campbell rolled his eyes and went to find Elle; she headed back to work, and they headed back home to get ready for their own shifts.   
  
Grizz, luckily, managed to convince Luke and Clark to let Campbell into the store for dog food. It's not like anyone else was using it. Like Campbell had thought, the only dog in town was their strange new roommate. At least Charlie had stopped hovering at the window in the dead of night. It made it easier to live with him, and not suspect he was some sort of inter-dimensional being sent to destroy them all.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, was a wreck that night. After they'd come home from dinner and their work shift, when Elle was in the shower, he came begging for some of Campbell's stash.  
  
"I haven't asked you for anything in a long time," Harry reasoned. "Can't I just get something for tonight?"  
  
Campbell raised an eyebrow. "Because you've been trying to get clean, or because you've been working through your private hoard?"  
  
"You know I'm not clean. But I need something after all this shit with Dewey. Something stronger. I just... I just need to sleep."  
  
"You need to get off the drugs and onto something useful."  
  
"Look, we can have an intervention tomorrow, if that's what you want to do."   
  
"Ugh." Campbell went and fished out a decent sized does of a pill that would, or should, knock Harry out for a while. "Here. Go get some sleep."  
  
"Campbell, this is one pill. I might as well just go to the fucking pharmacy myself."  
  
Resting his chin on his hand, Campbell smiled the smile of a fox that had raided the henhouse. "I think you'll find the cupboards a little bare. Look. You need to sleep? This will help you sleep."  
  
"I know how much I need, this isn't enough."  
  
"It'll have to be."  
  
"Cam--"  
  
"We need to be smart," Campbell cut in. He could see that Harry was freaking out. He was starting to go into withdrawal, like Campbell knew he would, because the supplies wouldn't last forever no matter how careful people were. "Harry, you need to be smarter than this."  
  
Harry growled. "I'm not a fucking child."  
  
"Then don't act like one. This isn't going to fix what's going on up in your head, okay? Coke, all those painkillers, alcohol. It's a band aid. You need help."  
  
Taking the pill, Harry slumped his shoulders in defeat. "It's not like this is how I imagined my life going, you know. I was gonna do things. Be somebody."  
  
"Depression is a bitch."  
  
"I'm not depressed." Harry bit his lip when Campbell stared at him. "Well, I mean... I just assumed it was my own fault."  
  
"Because that's what all our champagne and caviar parents say to sweep shit under the rug, so they don't have to deal with it. Take your pill and go to bed. We'll figure something out in the morning."  
  
Harry hummed a little sound of agreement and shuffled off downstairs. Campbell flopped back on the bed, his head full of too many thoughts. How could he not have seen it in Dewey? Why did he do it? And now, he was back to worrying about Harry, along with everything else. How was he supposed to keep Harry from crashing?   
  
Elle came in soon after, with Charlie at her heels; she seemed distracted, but weren't they all? It had been a long, strange sort of day.   
  
Campbell was brushing his teeth while Elle tidied up her side of the bathroom. "Fuck, I can't believe that little shit had it in him. Can you? I mean I, I..." He trailed off for a moment and fluttered his hands in the air. It didn't make sense. "I didn't see it coming, out of all the people Harry had at that party."  
  
"Harry's party?"  
  
"Harry said some shit about Cassandra before prom at his party, and we gave a list of the suspects to Gordie, but nothing came of it until now."  
  
"Did he ever tell you what he said?"  
  
"I don't think he even knows what he said. Drunk fucking rambling. Maybe people will finally stop whispering and giving me those fucking 'you killed Cassandra' looks."  
  
"It's not like there's any evidence tying you to it now."  
  
_Now_. Campbell rinsed off his toothbrush and turned, trying to read the expression on Elle's face. She was brushing her hair and didn't seem aware of any sort of offense, but Campbell knew what he'd heard. "Do you still think I'm involved?"  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Why would I?" Elle looked over at him. "I just meant, in case anyone got suspicious. They can't possibly pin it on you."  
  
Campbell knew there was little point in pressing the matter. If Elle didn't believe him, why would she be sleeping with him? Or even living there still? At some point, paranoia was just that. Paranoia. He was just being jumpy because of the arrest. Once things were settled, maybe they could all just move on. But how would things even be settled?  
  
He went to sleep that night, imagining all the ways he would end that little bastard, if he could. Was Allie dreaming of the same things?  
  
The next morning, they all headed out to see the new work list. Elle, morning inventory check. Campbell, morning clean-up after breakfast. Harry, evening clean-up after dinner... again. They all sighed and headed out, Elle towards the stores and Campbell to the cafeteria, while Harry headed home. Campbell was used to working with Harry. If Harry was home alone, Campbell couldn't keep an eye on him-- not that Campbell ever stopped Harry from his bad habits, but Harry had been having a rougher time. What if he did something foolish, when no one was home to stop him?  
  
But Harry was alive when they got home that night, and the night after. The only ones who seemed to have done something foolish were Allie and her cronies; when everyone was called back to the church for Dewey's trial, the first thing Campbell noticed was that Dewey had been bruised up. Oh, that wouldn't go over well at all. Who had done it? Surely not Grizz. Probably not Luke. But Clark, who sat right behind Dewey and was practically breathing down his neck? Yeah, that guy was capable.  
  
Campbell wasn't upset. He was jealous.  
  
What he wouldn't give to be able to wrap his hands around that scrawny fucking neck and--  
  
"Sorry I'm late," Harry mumbled as he slid into the booth behind Campbell and Elle. He leaned forward to whisper to them. "What's going on?"  
  
Elle shrugged. "You haven't missed much. We're just waiting for Allie."  
  
"Are you okay?" Campbell asked, turning to look at Harry.  
  
"Yeah, just a little slow this morning."  
  
Harry looked haggard, washed out, and his hands were shaking. But before Campbell could question him, a hush fell over the room. Allie was sitting at a table at the front of the room, and a group of people were sitting off to the side-- a jury, but who selected them? Through what process? Allie hadn't said anything about what was happening or how, not to him or anyone he knew. Gordie, of course, was on the prosecution's side. Helena was sitting next to Dewey. It all seemed so contrived. Like some sort of play. Either they had enough evidence or they didn't. Pretending to be a fair, balanced court was laughable. Courts weren't even fair and balanced in the real world, with trained adults.   
  
Allie offered a sort of smile, but it wasn't comforting in any way. "A week before my sister died, uhm, I was complaining about how wild it was that we had to take care of everything. You know, everything was our decision. And she was like, really? Alexander the Great conquered the whole world when he was our age." She sniffled. "Which was kind of annoying of her."  
  
Campbell couldn't help but sneer. Of course. Had to have one last dig, right?  
  
"Well," Allie continued, "we own it all now. The good and the bad."  
  
And that much was the truth. Campbell leaned back in the pew as Gordie presented his evidence-- the bullets they pulled from Cassandra's body, and the gun they had found in Dewey's possession. The gun used the same bullets. Helena threw some bullshit at Gordie-- oh, but could they be sure it was the same gun-- but Gordie held his ground. The jury passed the bullets around among them, murmuring things Campbell couldn't hear.  
  
"Another thing," Helena said as she went to sit back down. "Dewey has bruises all over him."  
  
Dewey whined before Allie could reply. "Yeah, they fucking beat me."  
  
The crowd began to buzz, and Allie raised her voice to drown them all out. "We had a problem guarding him. It won't happen again."  
  
"You arrest him, you beat him up."  
  
"It's not relevant."  
  
Helena raised her eyebrows. The noise of the crowd increased, becoming angry; Campbell could hear some teens whispering questioning remarks. Wrong move, Allie, and Helena could tell. "It's not relevant how the people in charge of this prosecution behaved?"  
  
"It was a mistake. It has nothing to do with whether he's guilty or not." Allie's tone went steely. "Move on."  
  
Glancing around the church, Helena shrugged. "We'd like to call Harry Bingham to the stand," she called out. Harry inhaled sharply behind Campbell, but stood and headed up to the front of the room without prompting. He'd barely sat down in the empty chair provided when Helena launched into him. "According to witnesses, you said that Dewey confessed to you. Can you clarify?"  
  
"We were at the coffee shop, on break." Harry glanced at Campbell, who tipped his chin up just a little. Say it. "We were just talking, talking shit. Whatever. And he basically just came out and said it, that he killed her."  
  
Dewey jumped up from his chair. "You fucking asshole!"  
  
Helena paused as Clark and Allie began to shout at Dewey, who was eventually subdued and put back in his chair. Frowning, she turned back to Harry. "You were saying?"  
  
Harry looked down at his hands. "He had this creepy smile, like he was proud of himself. He said that someone had to show her who was boss, and that whoever did it was a hero."  
  
"Is that when he confessed?"  
  
"Basically, yeah."  
  
"Basically?" Helena asked, crossing her arms.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Did he actually say he'd killed her? In those exact words?"  
  
"Not those exact words, but that's what he fucking meant."  
  
"Why? Why would he tell _you_? Why would he confess to _you_?"  
  
For a long time, Harry didn't respond. He opened his mouth and closed it again, biting his lip and blinking fast. He looked guilty. There was no way around that. "He thought it'd make me happy."  
  
"Happy?"  
  
"That Cassandra was dead."  
  
"Why would he think that?"  
  
"Because we were rivals in high school. And because I was talking shit about her," Harry admitted, causing a ripple of hushed conversation to rise among the jury. Allie looked furious. "I know it was a dick move, but I was drunk and pissed off because Kelly had dumped me. I didn't mean it."  
  
Helena gestured to Harry as she stepped closer to the jury. "Let's be clear about this. Harry Bingham confessed that he made disparaging remarks about Cassandra Pressman, and that night, she was dead."  
  
Harry stood up. "Don't put this on me! Look, he told me that he got me the peace and quiet that I wanted, and that he deserved a thank you. I might be a piece of shit, but he's the killer."  
  
"Did anyone else hear this?"  
  
"No, but--"  
  
Helena cut Harry off. "So, it's your word against his. Someone with no history of violence, against someone who hated her." Shrugging, she returned to her seat next to Dewey. "Maybe you put the gun in his house. Maybe you set him up."  
  
"That's not what happened."  
  
"Maybe you're lying."  
  
"Yeah, because I look so much better right now," Harry scoffed. "I didn't _want _to do this, you know. I didn't want to be here. I came here because I wanted to try and do the right thing."  
  
After a few more questions, Harry was dismissed; he darted back to his seat, and when Allie allowed everyone to leave, he was one of the first people out the door. The walk home was quiet. Elle kept glancing between them, and Campbell knew she had something on her mind, but he was too tired to ask. If she couldn't be bothered to just ask, well, that was her problem. Campbell was more worried about Harry, who was shaking by the time they got home; he didn't talk for a long time, and he silently left to go to work, but he curled up next to Campbell on the sofa that night while Elle was taking Charlie for a walk.  
  
"You know I didn't do anything, right?"  
  
Campbell pursed his lips. "I know you didn't do anything to Cassandra, but it's not me you have to convince. I don't see how they could suspect anyone but Dewey, considering they have the actual goddamn gun."  
  
"If they try and pin this on me..."  
  
"I won't let them. I promise."  
  
Harry burrowed his face into one of the sofa pillows. "This is all so fucked up." He dragged himself off the sofa and slugged his way towards his room. "I'm gonna clean the kitchen and go to bed. Maybe things will be less shit in the morning."  
  
It was unlikely. Campbell kept his opinion to himself, though, and went to help. They worked in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts; Harry wandered off to take a shower once they were almost done, and Campbell stayed to sweep the floors. He'd just finished when Elle and the dog came home.   
  
Elle wiped off Charlie's paws, taking her shoes off at the door. "Getting in some stress relief?"  
  
"Yeah. Kinda worried about Helena and her bullshit interrogation."  
  
"I mean, she's a nice person. I'm sure she's just doing her job."  
  
"Really doubt her job is trying to pawn a murder off on my best friend," Campbell muttered. "The jury better not fall for that shit. Harry doesn't even _like _guns."  
  
Elle busied herself with Charlie, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you think they're gonna do? Once they decide who did it?"  
  
"I don't know. Lock them up, I guess. Either that, or kill them."   
  
"I'm going to take a bath," Elle said suddenly. She came over and gave Campbell a quick kiss on the cheek. "Is it okay if Charlie's on the bed?"  
  
Campbell ruffled the fur on the dog's head. "Sure. I don't care about a little dog fur."  
  
Nodding, Elle grabbed Charlie's collar and took him upstairs with her. Campbell sighed, going back to cleaning the spots Harry had missed. Helena was the last person he expected Elle to befriend; Helena was smart, but religious, conservative, and more than a little judgmental. It seemed an odd choice. She also pointedly went after Harry. Was there something going on with Elle and Harry that he'd missed? Of course, Campbell had never told Elle about the kiss, because it had been a one time thing and Harry knew better than to try again. Was it wrong? Probably, but Campbell didn't want to cause worry over nothing, though... Did she somehow know? Was that why she seemed unconcerned about Helena's behavior?  
  
Campbell looked up from scrubbing the sink as Charlie trotted down the stairs and stopped at the back door. "Hey, boy. What's up? Didn't you just go out?"  
  
Charlie let out a long, low whine, staring at the doorknob. Campbell shrugged and went to the door. Maybe the dog had tanked up on too much water, or something. He slipped on his shoes, opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch. Charlie stood at his side, looking out into the woods. Campbell tensed as Charlie let out a growl.  
  
"Charlie? What is it?" Campbell asked. The dog bristled. Something in the air felt wrong. Cold. "Charlie? Hey, let's go back inside."  
  
But Charlie surged forward, taking off before Campbell could grab his collar. The dog charged into the woods, barking and snarling. Campbell grabbed a flashlight off the kitchen counter and went after Charlie; he wasn't going to let the dog face whatever was out there on his own. Campbell heard barking, but he didn't see Charlie anywhere in the thick trees. Fuck. He tried to follow the sound. He didn't call out Charlie's name. The dog wasn't going to mind him, and it'd just announce his presence. For some reason, that seemed like a bad, bad idea.  
  
A yelp came from up ahead, close by, and the barking stopped. Campbell jogged a few paces and swung his light around, but there was nothing. Campbell put his hand down on a large rock as he caught his breath. He yanked his hand back as he felt something hot, wet; the flashlight revealed a thick red liquid, and a lot of it.  
  
Blood.  
  
Campbell felt his stomach heave, but he didn't have time to process what was happening. He heard a twig snap up ahead, and something moved in the beam of the flashlight. Campbell bolted back towards the house, running fast enough that his lungs and legs felt like they were on fire. He didn't stop until he was inside, and had the doors and windows locked. He rubbed his hands on his pants without thinking, then cursed. He couldn't tell Elle about finding blood. She would be devastated. And besides, maybe Charlie had caught a rabbit, and it was the damn dog he'd heard moving out there in the trees. Campbell figured they could wait a couple days. If Charlie didn't show back up, then he could tell Elle about the blood. At least it'd give Charlie a chance to show back up.  
  
Upstairs, he stripped out of his clothes and shoved them a ways under his bed. He'd deal with that later. Campbell put on new clothes, sucking in slow breaths and trying to stop himself from thinking about it all too much. He went back downstairs, peering out the windows. Nothing, dog or otherwise. He sighed and turned on the hot water, squeezing soap on his hands and scrubbing the little bit of dried blood left on them. As much as he tried to forget about it, he kept replaying that yelp in his mind, and the shadow that had darted in front of the flashlight. What could it have been? A coyote? Wolf? Bear?  
  
Elle came down the stairs a few minutes later, just as Campbell had finished getting the blood off of his hands. "Where's Charlie? I can't find him anywhere."  
  
"I don't know." Campbell met her gaze. God, she was already worried. He had to give her some sort of truth. "I took him out because he was crying at the door, and he just took off into the woods."   
  
"What happened?"  
  
"It looked like he spotted a rabbit or something."  
  
"I need to go--"  
  
Campbell grabbed Elle by the shoulders as she began to reach for her jacket. "Hey, no. It's super dark out there right now, and we won't be able to see snakes or anything. I'll put some food out, see if that'll work. If not, I'll go look for him in the morning. He won't go far."  
  
Elle looked out the window and frowned. "Yeah, I guess you're right."  
  
"I'm sorry." Campbell kissed her hair. "I know how much you love Charlie. I'll see if I can get some people to come out to the woods with me and help me look."  
  
Neither of them slept well that night. Elle tossed and turned, and Campbell kept waking up at every little creak and groan of the house. Not because he was afraid-- he wasn't scared, so much as hyperaware of the reality that there could be other people or animals out there that they hadn't seen before. And if it was a person, well, no one ever hides in the woods for a good reason.  
  
Charlie wasn't back by morning. There wasn't any sign of him. Harry, Sam, and Grizz all agreed to help him look for the dog, but after a couple hours of combing the woods and calling for him, there was nothing. Campbell couldn't even find the area where there had been blood. It was like it had never even happened. The search was cut even shorter by a text buzzing all their phones. Allie, summoning the town to the church. The jury had apparently reached it's verdict already.  
  
"We could keep looking after," Sam offered. "Or even put up posters around town. Someone must know where he is."  
  
Campbell sighed. "Yeah. Thanks."  
  
Sam rested a hand on Campbell's back, and Campbell let him. It was a heavy day for them both, and Allie. Sam hadn't really offered his opinion of Dewey and the accusations against him, but then whey got to the church, Campbell could see the smallest spark of hatred in Sam's eyes. Campbell gave Sam's shoulder a little squeeze of encouragement, before they separated and went to sit with their own groups. Harry and Elle were already sitting, and he squeezed into the aisle seat next to them just as Allie began to speak.  
  
"Do you have a verdict?" she asked the jury. One of the girls nodded. "You want to...?"  
  
The girl stood, clasping her hands tightly in front of her and looking down on the ground. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Guilty. We find him guilty."  
  
A chorus of cheers went up through the church. Allie smiled, ever so briefly before she dropped the mask back down over her face. "Thank you to the jury for doing its job. Now it's up for me to decide his sentence." Allie stood. "It could take a while. Guards, will you take him back to his cell?"  
  
Clark grabbed Dewey, and they were dragging him off when Dewey began to shout. Allie held up her hand, stopping them. "Everyone, can you come back and sit? Dewey has something to say."  
  
Dewey was brought back, and he faced his audience. For a moment, he didn't say anything, but then he spat on the floor and grinned. "Cassandra was a fucking bitch. So is her sister and her black boyfriend that makes all the rules." People began to shout him down, but Dewey just yelled back louder. "So are all the women here. Fucking bitches who won't give us the time of day, who think we owe _them_ everything? I killed Cassandra for everyone because she had it coming."  
  
Campbell began to stand. "Piece of fucking--"  
  
Harry grabbed Campbell's waist and tugged him back down, whispering. "Don't. Not like this." He glared at Dewey. "Even if the little fuckstain deserves it."  
  
Dewey must have heard, somehow, because his gaze landed directly on Harry. "On the night of prom, we were all at Harry's house, and he said he wished she was dead."  
  
"Fuck you!" Harry growled as the crowd turned to stare at them. "I told you all I said things I didn't mean. I was drunk, I barely remember what I said."  
  
Laughing, Dewey pointed at Harry. "You know what you did. Everyone there knows what you said." His grin sharpened as he turned his finger to Campbell. "And Campbell helped me plan it. He was there, he planned the whole thing."  
  
"What?" Campbell felt his blood drain from his face. _He planned the whole thing_. Surely no one would believe Dewey? But everyone was giving him that terrible look, that one that said _I knew it_. Campbell stood and this time, Harry didn't try to stop him when he began to move towards Dewey. "He's a fucking liar, and a murderer. I don't have to sit here and take this."  
  
Allie barked out an order. "Get back to your seat."  
  
Grizz stepped between him and the scumbag, his voice low. "Don't, Campbell."  
  
"Get the fuck out of my way."  
  
"Stand. Down."  
  
Campbell wanted to punch Grizz, but he kept his hands at his side, curled into fists but still. "Allie," he called out as he looked to his cousin. She knew how close they'd been. She must have known. "You know I didn't do it. I wouldn't have."  
  
"What do you want us to do?" Clark asked, suddenly behind Campbell.  
  
Allie looked Campbell up and down, her face completely blank. Empty. Campbell could read just about any face, but not this time. Her tone was just as distant. "Arrest him."  
  
Campbell gaped at Allie as the crowd erupted into jeers and hollered insults. They'd had their difference, but throwing him to the wolves? "You can't be serious."  
  
Allie just stared him down, silent as the guard grabbed him and began hauling him out of the church. He could hear Harry's voice in the crowd, protesting, and caught a brief glimpse of Elle-- pale, shocked-- before Allie's cronies dragged him out the doors. Campbell struggled at first, mostly from instinct, but then Grizz grasped his shoulder and leaned closer.  
  
"Settle down. We'll figure this out."  
  
And Campbell grit his teeth, forcing himself to relax. Grizz snapped something at Jason and Clark, who each had one of Campbell's arms; they eased their grip and stopped, giving Campbell time to get his feet under him and walk instead of being keelhauled like a traitorous sailor at sea. They headed towards a black SUV, and Jason shoved Campbell in the back between him and Grizz. Clark and Luke took the front seat.  
  
"I didn't do it," Campbell said to Grizz. "The little dickweed is setting me up."  
  
Grizz shook his head. "I know, but this is how it has to be until we can figure out what's going on. Just take it easy. Once we talk to Allie, we can get this cleared up."  
  
"She hates me, and you know it."  
  
"Yeah, but I don't. Sam doesn't. We can make a case."  
  
Campbell leaned his head back against the seat. Fuck. He took long, slow breaths as they drove to Allie's house; he didn't understand why they weren't using the cells in the police station on the outside of town, where the cop car they used for Fugitive came from, but he wouldn't ask. Best to not give them ideas. He didn't even complain when they tossed him in the upstairs bedroom, handcuffing him to the radiator. _Patience_, Cassandra's voice murmured in his mind. _Patience_.  
  
Grizz, more than anything, looked disturbed. He ran his hand through his hair and looked around the room, as if the answer would be there somewhere. "If you need anything, I'll be in the hall outside, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever."  
  
The door clicked shut as Grizz left, and Campbell closed his eyes. He was innocent. There was no evidence tying him to anything. He'd had Cassandra's blood on his clothes from checking her pulse, but Elle had gotten rid of those. No one had seen him. He didn't have any guns of any sort, his prints weren't on anything. Campbell was many things, but he wasn't a murderer, and surely Allie would come to her senses and realize that.  
  
All he had to do was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos. <3 It means so much to me, and provides much-needed encouragement. Part four-- the end of this saga, most likely-- will be coming next Sunday; feel free to check out [my tumblr](https://wroughtbetwixtfanfic.tumblr.com/) for updates, and to see chapters a few days sooner. Hope to see you all there. :D Thank you again!


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